\ 



PRACTICAL DISCOURSES. 



GEORGE WADSWORTH WELLS, 

LATE PASTOR OF THE UNITARIAN CHURCH IN GROTON. 



WITH A MEMOIR. 



BOSTON: 
WILLIAM CROSBY. 
1844. 




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, by 
William Crosby, 
in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



CAMBRIDGE: 
METCALF AND COMPANY, 

PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 



CONTENTS. 



— ♦ — 

PAGE 

Note 1 

Memoir 3 

SERMON I. 

The Immutability of God 67 

SERMON II. 

Living to Christ 84 

SERMON III. 

Religious Conversation . . . • . . . 100 
SERMON IV. 

Christian Union 116 

SERMON V. 

Regeneration 128 

SERMON VI. 

Motives to Early Piety . . . . . . 148 



iv CONTENTS. 

SERMON VII. 
Moral Principle to be carried into Political Conduct 162 



SERMON VIII. 
To Young Men 174 

SERMON IX. 

Righteous Judgment . 191 

SERMON X. 

Amusements . 205 

SERMON XL 

The Atonement 220 

SERMON XII. 
National Sins 241 

SERMON XIII. 
Farewell Discourse. — 1 253 

SERMON XIV. 
Farewell Discourse. — II 265 

SERMON XV. 

The Lord's Supper 279 



NOTE. 



In the death of George Wadsworth Wells, late pas- 
tor of the Unitarian Church in Groton, Massachusetts, the 
brethren of the Union Pastoral Association of ministers 
felt that they had met with a severe and irreparable loss. 
The departure of no one of their number could they have 
more sincerely mourned, and the memory of no one could 
they more unanimously honor. And while they regarded 
his moral and Christian traits as of singular brightness and 
rarely equalled proportion, they also greatly respected the 
strength and soundness of his mind, with the peculiar adap- 
tation of his faculties to the ministerial office. With such 
sentiments, they resolved to make application to his be- 
reaved and esteemed partner for the privilege of preparing 
a volume of his discourses for the press. Their request, 
though meeting with some reluctance, occasioned by Mr. 
Wells's own uniform disinclination to come before the pub- 
lic, was, however, favorably regarded. A committee was 
accordingly appointed to perform this labor of love, con- 
sisting of the Rev. Mr. Lothrop of Boston, Mr. Peabody of 
Portsmouth, N. H., and Mr. Bartol of Boston. While the 
two former have undertaken the more arduous task of mak- 
ing a selection of sermons, to their companion was assigned 
the pleasing work of delineating the character of our la- 
mented friend, in part on the basis of an address delivered 
at his funeral. 

1 



MEMOIR. 



George Wadsworth Wells was born in 
Boston, October, 1804 ; was entered at college 
in Harvard University, 1819 ; was graduated in 
1823 ; and pursued theological studies at Cam- 
bridge in the Divinity School the usual term of 
three years. Before being regularly established, 
he preached awhile in Boston and Baltimore ; af- 
ter which he was happily settled in Kennebunk, 
Maine, in October, 1827 ; where he remain- 
ed eleven years. His health, never very robust, 
at length decidedly failing in the severe climate 
and bleak exposure of the coast on which that 
town lies, he was obliged to seek a milder sky, 
and preached successfully one winter in Savan- 
nah, Georgia. Somewhat recruited, he hoped to 
be able to endure again the rigors of the Northern 
winter. But he was urged, by advice to which 
he could not be deaf, to leave Kennebunk, which 
he did with unspeakable regret. In November, 



4 



MEMOIR. 



1838, he was installed in Groton, where he min- 
istered with great acceptance and success. But 
again his health broke under the arduous toils of 
the profession, made doubly hard and exhausting 
by his ardent spirit and indefatigable persever- 
ance. He preached for the last time on the first 
Sabbath in February. He died on Friday 
morning, March 17, 1843, in the thirty-ninth 
year of his age. 

And from childhood till that time, it can be 
said of him without doubt or misgiving, as 
strongly as of any one, that he led a pure and 
blameless life. It falls not to a man to be sin- 
less, — but we know of nothing in his whole ca- 
reer which his friends would desire to forget, or 
need to cover with any mantle of charitable con- 
struction. In very early life he was distinguish- 
ed for his love of truth, for the early develop- 
ment of religious faith, and a moral fortitude. 
He passed through every study, grade, and sta- 
tion, with honor, till he became an ambassador 
for Christ ; in which capacity he has throughout 
been remarkable for the depth and gravity, and 
a certain tone of reality, with which he brought 
personally home to each hearer's mind the sacred 
themes of his address. Having heard him preach 
in our youth, we distinctly remember the extraor- 
dinary seriousness and simplicity of his exhorta- 



MEMOIR. 



5 



tions. The chief quality of his style was a hor- 
tatory reasoning, at once moving and convincing. 

We feel our inability to speak worthily of the 
character of our departed friend. Though we 
long knew and loved him, the wide separation 
of our spheres of labor gave us far fewer oppor- 
tunities than we should have coveted, for that 
close daily observation which is requisite, that 
we may speak with confidence of personal dis- 
positions. But his qualities were so simple and 
evident, his heart was so transparent, that 
some brief delineation we may not fear to give. 
His most conspicuous trait, which struck the 
casual observer, and seemed to be the very habit 
and posture of his mind, was humility. And by 
this we mean, not so much a feeling of self- 
distrust, — for he respected and relied upon the 
powers God had given him, — as an absence of 
all pretension and self-exaltation. We have 
never known one whose freedom from every 
sort of assumption or undue forwardness was 
more entire. He set up no claim. He thrust in 
no interference. He invaded no man's place or 
right. He envied no man's distinction. He 
craved no man's praise. He was quiet and pos- 
sessed in himself, and made neither show nor 
noise in the discharge of his duty. We have 
thought he withdrew himself too much from the 



6 



MEMOIR. 



notice and acquaintance of others. We feel 
sure that nothing but this voluntary retirement 
prevented a much wider intercourse and fame, 
such as he secured wherever he could not keep 
his worth from being known. His self-renoun- 
cing modesty so abstained from the least pre- 
suming, as with some to inspire a feeling of awe 
and distance, like what might have come from 
another man's pride. He had even a diffidence 
of granting his services to the society of which 
he was a child, which we could but once over- 
come, though we believe no one was heard 
among us more acceptably. 

Truly he had studied the character of him 
who was "meek and lowly in heart," and gain- 
ed the fundamental qualification of a Christian 
minister, by being a Christian. Yet he was by . 
no means of a weak and yielding temper. He 
was not the man to surprise into unworthy con- 
cessions. No man ever planted himself more 
firmly on the ground of his convictions and 
principles, and pursued more without wavering 
the course they prescribed. Thus he reduced 
to a beautiful harmony qualities both good and 
useful, which might seem at first sight incom- 
patible. And of all the unions of opposite vir- 
tues, none, to our minds, is more interesting and 
striking than this, of a meekness that is gentle 



MEMOIR. 



7 



up to the very point of principle and duty and 
the law of God, and there turns to adamant. 
The flowers may be plucked, but not the rock. 
Indeed, we are not sure but his firmness, too, 
sometimes tended to excess. But we are sure, 
that in its main proportions it had the excellent 
and substantial foundation of righteouness, and 
that, if he stood fast, he stood fast in the Lord. 

But the remarkable composition of his charac- 
ter we have not yet fully set forth. His self- 
sacrifice was as prominent as his self-reliance ; 
his feeling as warm and flowing, as his resolve 
was enduring. While his object was ever in 
his gaze, and his purpose sometimes seemed al- 
most stern, his fervor amounted well-nigh to en- 
thusiasm. Set for the defence of the gospel, he 
turned not from his post. His pledge to the 
great Captain of his salvation he adhered to, and 
as a good soldier redeemed. But at the same 
time he denied himself. We do not know 
whether, should we inquire of some intimate 
companion concerning his traits, self-denial and 
self-sacrifice would not be the words spoken 
sooner than any others that we have used. Dis- 
interestedness entered largely into his spiritual 
elements and his daily walk. No stranger was 
he to that living, ever burning, immeasurable 
principle, — the essence of God,^the actuating 



8 



MEMOIR. 



motive of Jesus, and the crown of his religion, 
— the principle of love. 

And all these moral qualities were sustained 
and made effective in a profession, the demands 
upon which seem to be daily increasing, by- 
strong and sound powers of mind. He was 
naturally thoughtful. We have heard from 
those who had opportunities to know the truth, 
that his bent was more to inward reflection than 
to outward observation, though his aims and his 
method were altogether practical. And we 
should suppose he inclined rather to the severe 
processes of reasoning than to flights of imagi- 
nation ; while over all his intellectual faculties 
the moral and spiritual predominated. Doubt- 
less he, like others, had faults ; but we have 
never observed nor been informed of any ap- 
pearances of such, not resolvable into some ex- 
cess of the main principles entering into the 
composition of the virtues. 

We have spoken strongly of Mr. Wells's 
character, but we would not knowingly use ex- 
aggerations of panegyric. The single-eyed and 
truthful spirit of him we are attempting to por- 
tray would rebuke us if we did. But we can- 
not tell over whom of our friends we could utter 
ourselves with more complete, unmingled re- 
spect. And we speak to many who know that 



MEMOIR. 



9 



this man's soul was in his profession and his 
work ; alas ! in them too absorbingly for the 
endurance of his bodily frame. He persisted, 
perhaps to a fault, in laboring, when the state 
of his health, and the advice of his friends and 
the counsel of his physicians, forbade. It was 
always so. Wherever his lot was cast, perse- 
vering toil was the attitude with which he stood 
in it. He would fain die with his armor upon 
him. And he did. Well do we remember, on 
the eve of his leaving his former place of set- 
tlement, — as with his sainted mother, dear to us 
also, we conversed together, — what an almost 
invincible reluctance he expressed to giving up 
his charge, though, if he remained in it, fatal 
disease stared him in the face. To the last, we 
think he was hardly persuaded, though he left. 
He would have staid there and died in the 
sweep of those harsh ocean-winds, yet in the 
embrace of those who loved him as well as 
people can their shepherd. And when Provi- 
dence at length sent him to a new post, he em- 
ployed the recovered remnants of health and 
strength with the same severe industry and 
hardy exposure. He hath fallen in the furrow, 
but not till he had planted in it the good seed, 
to spring up, we trust, bearing fruit thirty, 
sixty, an hundred fold, to the glory of God and 
the memory of his servant. 



10 



MEMOIR. 



We have marked only the more prominent 
dates in the life of Mr. Wells, because the prin- 
ciples and dispositions that made the man are 
far more striking and important to be dwelt 
upon, than any circumstances of his career. 
This was not more eventful than that of many 
who have left no such peculiar impress of them- 
selves on men's hearts. His outward course, 
which we have no space to follow minutely, 
will, however, be more particularly traced in some 
extracts from his correspondence. 

Before proceeding further, we cannot forbear 
observing, that the qualities of singular worth 
which he displayed were doubtless in part de- 
rived from that parental influence which has ex- 
plained the greatness and goodness of so many 
great and good men. His father it was not our 
privilege to know ; but we shall always esteem 
it one of the chief social privileges of our life 
to have known his mother. She was, indeed, a 
very rare specimen of the Christian woman. In 
the loss of a beloved husband, with five children 
placed by Providence in her sole charge, ske 
seemed to combine the manly energy of thejjp- 
parted head of the family with a measure of 
overflowing tenderness almost as uncommon 
even in the gentler sex. We have never seen 
more sweetness with more strength, — more 



wm 



MEMOIR. 



11 



considerate wisdom tempering more determinate 
decision, — more fondness of personal affection 
united with greater singleness of eye and sound- 
ness of judgment. In her, duty nerved the 
heart that affliction had well-nigh broken. But 
even a broken heart would have been placed in 
humble sacrifice on the altar of God, so absorb- 
ing and submissive was her piety. She was 
watchful over her children, — careful of their 
education, especially that moral and religious 
education which she esteemed of paramount con- 
cern. 

Wherever Mr. Wells labored in the ministry, 
he reached his hearers' minds and hearts. He 
met with the most gratifying success. It was 
not the success of that loud and transient admi- 
ration which so often deceives both the preacher 
and the congregation, but the success of making 
the people more serious in their religious in- 
quiries, more bent upon personal virtue, and 
more imbued with devotion to God. The savor 
of godliness was in all his influence. Few have 
reached so simply and entirely, to the extent 
of the powers and opportunities granted, the 
ends of the ministerial profession. The deep 
infusion of the gospel-spirit, which he effected in 
Kennebunk, will remain and go down to another 
generation. The intimacy of his spiritual union 



12 



MEMOIR. 



with the society in that place will appear from 
the tone of some letters to which we shall refer. 
For about a year previous to his settlement in 
Kennebunk, he kept in faithful charge the socie- 
ty of the Rev. Dr. Frothingham in this city. 
In Savannah, his work, though brief, had the 
same profoundness of nature. In Groton, the 
assurances are ample, of the prospering of the 
work of the Lord in his hand. We are permit- 
ted to transcribe some sentences from a letter 
dated Groton, March 18th, 1844. 

" For some time previous to the commence- 
ment of his ministry in Groton, the religious so- 
ciety there sensibly languished. Its devotion to 
religious subjects had diminished, and harmony 
among its members was disturbed. Two or 
three years had passed away without bringing 
any additions to the church. Although the old 
house was altogether an inappropriate place to 
conduct the services of the Sabbath, yet there 
was too much indifference and lukewarmness in 
the people to provide a better. We owe to the 
influence of our late pastor the acquisition of 
our present commodious and beautiful church. 
Encouraged and sustained by him, the work was 
commenced and prosecuted to a successful and 
satisfactory termination. Yet the remodelling 



MEMOIR. 



13 



of our house was regarded as a very formidable 
undertaking ; and such, indeed, it really was, 
for a society distracted as was ours. 

" He manifested that same wisdom and pru- 
dence, which was so eminently a part of his char- 
acter, in not hastily acting upon information 
concerning his society, from individuals in his 
own or neighbouring towns. He chose to de- 
rive his information for future action and guid- 
ance from personal observation and experience. 
After he became acquainted with the situation, 
character, and wants of the society, his preaching 
became more pertinent and impressive. Not 
that his sermons were at any time of a desultory, 
pointless, or spiritless character. Far from it. 
They were always calculated to make the hearer 
leave the house of God resolved to be a better 
man. But after his connection with the parish 
had existed for some time, his preaching showed 
that he had been an attentive and faithful ob- 
server of the people of his charge. He spoke 
to them plainly, affectionately, but faithfully, of 
their sins and their duties. He discoursed to 
them as one to a friend who knew intimately his 
faults, and whose sole desire in alluding to them 
was, that his friend might see them and reform. 

" It was related of Louis the Fourteenth, that, 
after having once heard Massillon, at Versailles, 



14 



MEMOIR. 



he lingered in the porch until the preacher came 
out, and thus addressed him : 1 Father Massillon, 
I have heard many great orators in this chapel, 
I have been highly pleased with them ; but as 
for you, whenever I hear you, I go away dis- 
pleased with myself ; for I see more of my own 
character.' It was, emphatically, the effect of 
Mr. Wells's preaching to make his people see 
more of their true character, that they might re- 
pent and reform. 

" Every day of every week, as individuals of 
the parish sit down with some interesting and 
useful volume, are they reminded of him to 
whose efforts and influence they are indebted for 
it. Incalculable, almost, will be the amount of 
good of which this library will be productive to 
our society. It will continue, we confidently 
hope, to be, for years to come, a fountain from 
which shall flow streams that will purify and en- 
lighten many a human soul. 

" In the words of another, ' He often urged 
upon his society the establishment of a parish 
library, as a means of advancement in religious 
and other useful knowledge. He lived to see 
this accomplished ; and the time and care spent 
in the selection of suitable books, as well as the 
large number of volumes given by himself to 
the library, must ever make it esteemed the 



MEMOIR. 



15 



memorial of his interest in our welfare.' To 
quote from the same writer, — 1 In the Sabbath 
School his interest was always conspicuous; and, 
indeed, wherever he saw the attempt to do good, 
however trifling, he always gave the word of 
encouragement.' 

" Although others have done much, no one has 
done so much as our late pastor, in the cause 
of temperance in this town. Truth demands 
the remark, that our town was behind others in 
this holy enterprise. The cause of this it is 
not necessary to state ; nor is it necessary to re- 
count the difficulties which it was evident one 
must encounter, who would speak of the sub- 
ject of intemperance. They were known to 
our late pastor ; and when we take into consider- 
ation the quiet, reserved, and peaceful disposition 
which was so characteristic of him, nothing but 
a strong and determined sense of duty would 
have induced him so thoroughly to discuss a 
subject, the bare allusion to which, by another, 
would have been met by decided coldness and 
disapprobation. His course on this subject, al- 
though abounding with Christian benevolence, 
exasperated those who were determined to make 
it a forbidden topic. Those, therefore, from 
whom he should have received counsel and en- 
couragement, exhibited cold indifference or open 



16 



MEMOIR. 



hostility. Seldom were a good man's feelings 
more severely tried than were those of Mr. Wells 
at this crisis. Although the consciousness of 
duty sustained him, yet but few know how 
much mental suffering he experienced." 

We are permitted to give the following re- 
marks on the character of our departed brother 
by one who knew him as well as, perhaps better 
than, any one of his other associates in the min- 
istry, — the Rev. Jason Whitman, of Portland, 
Maine. 

Brother Wells was settled at Kennebunk a 
few years before I entered the ministry. I was 
settled at Saco, about eight miles distant from 
him. He was my nearest neighbour in the pro- 
fession. That longing which we all feel for 
ministerial intercourse and sympathy led us to 
be much together. We spent a good portion of 
one day each month together, and consequently 
became very intimately acquainted with each 
other's views and feelings, and, I believe, strong- 
ly attached to each other. Still, this very inti- 
macy, perhaps, renders it difficult for me to single 
out the traits of his character, and dwell upon 
them separately. His character stands before 
my mind's eye as a whole. I will, however, 
do the best I can. Extreme tenderness of con- 



MEMOIR. 



17 



science was one of the most striking traits in 
Brother Wells's character. He was not satisfied 
to go along in the course of conventional morali- 
ty adopted by the world, nor yet in the round 
of religious exercises prescribed by custom, with- 
out asking whether, in doing so, he was true to 
his own soul. I once was in company with him 
at church, where we heard a strange minister 
preach, who quoted Scripture in such a way as 
to give his hearers an impression very far from 
the true meaning. He seemed to shudder at 
the thought. 

M In close connection with this may be men- 
tioned great firmness of purpose, amounting, as 
might seem to some, almost to obstinacy. His 
firmness grew out of his conscientiousness, and 
was, therefore, unyielding. I have heard the late 
Dr. Parker relate the following anecdote of his or- 
dination, as illustrative of this trait of character. 
An Orthodox minister was a member of the 
council. He claimed the privilege of question- 
ing the candidate in regard to his opinions. Mr. 
Wells had thought upon the subject, and had 
made up his mind that the ordaining council 
had no right to question the candidate. Dr. 
Parker himself took the ground that it might 
sometimes be necessary, in order that they might 
know what to do about assisting in the ordina- 
2 



18 



MEMOIR. 



tion. He said Mr. Wells seemed to be but a 
modest and diffident boy, and he supposed would 
yield at once to the suggestion of several elder 
members of the council. But, to his great sur- 
prise, he found that he had thought upon the 
subject, had made up his mind in regard to it, 
and that he was firm and immovable as the 
mountains. This apparent obstinacy grew out 
of his tenderness of conscience. With him, 
even in regard to unimportant matters, there was 
a right and a wrong. He always endeavoured 
to follow the right, and consequently the ques- 
tion of a change of conduct was to him no 
question of mere expediency ; it was a ques- 
tion of right and wrong. He was firm in his ad- 
herence to principle. 

" But with this firmness there was connected 
all possible mildness, and none of that positive, 
dogmatic manner by which it is often accom- 
panied. If you were to meet him in company 
or in an association of clergymen, there was 
nothing in his manner to indicate his true char- 
acter. There was no forth-putting pretension. 
He was more than is ordinarily the case modest 
and retiring. But when you came to call for his 
opinion, you found that he had formed one on 
good grounds, — had a reason to give for his 
opinions, and would adhere to them until con- 
vinced that they were wrong. 



MEMOIR. 



19 



♦ £ In his parish he was very active as a pastor, 
and very much devoted to the good of his people. 
Any thing that would promote their interests he 
was willing to do. I remember he once felt 
that the sons and daughters of his parishioners 
wanted employment, and he took quite an in- 
terest in efforts for the manufacture of silk. The 
plan did not succeed, but the interest he took 
shows his deep devotion to the welfare of his 
people. He looked particularly at their religious 
improvement, and studied their states of mind, 
their peculiar modes of thinking and of speech, in 
order to know how best to meet their wants and 
promote their spiritual growth. He told me once, 
that he had been looking over his old sermons, 
and he wondered that he had not driven every 
hearer out of the house when he first came among 
them. He named an instance to illustrate his 
meaning. When he first left the Divinity School, 
it was with a feeling of opposition to the idea 
of a miraculous change. He preached as he 
felt. He found that his people all believed in 
a change, and thought very much as he did upon 
the subject ; and yet that certain terms, against 
which he had been preaching, were sacred in 
their minds. He expressed the hope that young 
men would seek to qualify themselves for their 
profession, not merely by the study of theology, 



20 



MEMOIR. 



but also by the study of mankind and their pe- 
culiar modes of thought and speech ; that it 
would often happen that people would use lan- 
guage, which to a theologian would be objection- 
able, while they held to no objectionable views. 

" As a preacher, Brother Wells commanded at- 
tention and secured interest by the sincerity with 
which he spoke. You could not listen to him, 
without feeling that he spoke only what he felt. 
— that his whole heart was in his discourse." 

We now proceed to several extracts from let- 
ters, which indicate, better than could any general 
remarks, the disposition and habits of mind of 
the deceased. The first passage is from a letter 
of his own. 

" Upper Bartlett, Aug. 26th, 1837. 
" There is no village, no meeting-house, no 
store, no lawyer, no physician, no minister, and 

not even a blacksmith, in the place I 

cannot bear the least exposure to the damp air, 
without bringing on a bad cough, and I feel 
afraid that I may not be able to get rid of this 
tendency. However, I try not to anticipate 
evil, or to look on the dark side of things. It is 
hard to think that I may not be able to preach. 
But I trust, that, after using all the means in my 
power to strengthen the lungs, I may be resigned 



MEMOIR. 



21 



to the event, whatever it may be. Some of 
my friends in Kennebunk think that I have 
brought on these complaints by imprudent ex- 
posure. I am not myself aware that I have 
done any thing to justify such an impression, 
and I should be very sorry to think that I had 
violated the laws of health. I believe that God 
wishes us to obey the laws of our physical con- 
stitution as well as of our mental or moral na- 
ture, and that it is our duty to endeavour to 
ascertain these laws, and to conform to them. 
The laws of our moral nature are disclosed to 
us in part by our own consciousness, and in part 
by the revealed word of God. The laws of our 
mental and physical natures we must ascertain 
for ourselves, by our own experience or that of 
others. So that God has guarded much more 
carefully the former, as it is of far more impor- 
tance that we should obey God's will as to the 
cultivation of our moral faculties." 

We transcribe some sentences from another let- 
ter of his to a sick friend, to show how simple 
and just, yet elevated, were his views of religion. 

" The relation in which God reveals himself 
is that of a father. Our Saviour scarcely ever 
speaks of him under any other name. All the 
attributes of his character, as brought to light 



22 



MEMOIR. 



in the Scriptures, perfectly harmonize with this 
view. The duties, then, which we owe to God, 
are those of a child toward a father. They are 
deep and holy reverence, an ardent gratitude, an 
unwavering confidence, an unreserved submis- 
sion, and a cheerful obedience. Whoever, under 
the guidance of a Saviour's instructions and ex- 
ample, is led to cherish these feelings, and labors to 
fulfil these duties, is a religious man, a Christian. 

" What are called the peculiar doctrines of 
Christianity all spring from this as their founda- 
tion, all tend to this as their object and purpose. 
Repentance is only the soul's clear perception of 
its estrangement from God, and its deep sorrow 
for having neglected to live as a dear child of 
that merciful Father. The Atonement is that 
reconciliation, which, by his spotless example, 
his divine instructions, his devoted love in life 
and in death, Jesus brings about between the 
Father and his sinful children, which he accom- 
plishes by softening the hard hearts of men, and 
bringing them to that Father, who is represented 
as waiting to be gracious. Regeneration is that 
change of purposes, feelings, desires, which the 
soul experiences, when, from its absorption in 
earthly things, it springs upward to perceive its 
relation to God, and is brought to feel the infi- 



MEMOIR. 



23 



nite worth of his love, and then devotes itself to 
him. The great question with you, my dear 
friend, is, whether you have attained in some 
humble measure this sense of your relation to 
God, and through the gospel of Christ have been 
reconciled to him. So do not trouble your 
mind about disputed points. I do not say, they 
are of no consequence. If you were in health, 
I would advise you to the careful investigation 
of the word of God, for satisfaction upon all the 
great doctrines of religion. I would urge you 
to study diligently, and prove all things. But in 
your present weak condition you cannot, of 
course, do this ; and I thank God it is not neces- 
sary. He has made the way to his favor and 
eternal life plain and clear. When the body is 
enfeebled, and the mind loses the power of in- 
vestigation, and thought itself is a burden, the 
spirit may repose in calm serenity upon its 
Father." 

We borrow next from a letter which indicates 
the deep and inextinguishable interest he ever 
felt in the first flock under his charge, and which 
he often expressed most strongly. 

« Groton, Feb. 15th, 1839. 
" It is a source of great satisfaction to me to 
know that we are so kindly remembered by you 



24 



MEMOIR. 



all ; and I hope and trust that the time may 
never come when it will be otherwise. The 
affection, which an intercourse of eleven years 
has been confirming, cannot be destroyed ; nor 
can I ever cease to feel the deepest interest in 
the temporal and spiritual welfare of the nume- 
rous friends I have left in Kennebunk 

"I rejoice to hear that you still continue firmly 
united, and that such a good purpose prevails, to 
yield individual preferences to the general wishes 
and welfare." 

From another letter, to one in feeble health. 

« Groton, May 21, 1839. 
" I doubt not, my friend, that you have a sup- 
port and a joy in God which are far beyond the 
reach of any earthly changes, and that, with your 
views of the great business of life, you feel that 
sickness may be as profitable to you as any other 

condition I have felt a very deep interest 

in the affairs of the parish, (how, indeed, could I 
do otherwise ?) and have regretted very much 
that you have as yet been unable to find a per- 
son in whom the society could unite as your min- 
ister If you can without fatigue write 

to me, 1 should be very glad indeed to hear from 
you. and to know precisely how your complaints 



MEMOIR. 



25 



affect you both in body and in mind. For, though 
I am no longer your pastor, I never can cease to 
feel an interest in the welfare of yourself and 
of all my friends in Kennebunk, an interest 
which I believe I must feel for ever. My own 
character and my own future destiny are too 
deeply affected by my faithfulness or neglect 
there, ever to suffer me to forget those with whom 
I have been so long associated." 

From a letter to one in affliction. 

"Groton, June 18, 1839. 
" I have always felt a very deep interest in the 
character of your husband. Thrown so early 
upon himself for support, and exposed to all 
the moral dangers of a seaman's career, it was 
certainly remarkable that he should have retain- 
ed to such a degree the innocence of childhood, 
and that he should have had such firm and reso- 
lute principles, and should have felt so deep an 
interest in religion, which, amid stirring and 
bustling pursuits and the peculiar temptations of 

a sea-faring life, is so seldom felt The 

truest and most lasting consolation under trouble 
is to be found in a faithful improvement of afflic- 
tion, and in an earnest seeking after spiritual 
good as our highest good." 



26 



MEMOIR. 



From a letter to one who had met with severe 
and repeated strokes of trial. 

" I know, that, in the first overwhelming con- 
sciousness of bereavement, and especially when 
afflictions come in such rapid succession, our 
minds do not always find themselves sufficiently 
calm to receive the full consolations of the gos- 
pel of Jesus. But even then the soul can turn 
to God, and in its helpless loneliness can find a 
sweet comfort in casting itself upon his care. 

As you regain composure and are able 

to look at all the sources of consolation which 
God gives you, you will find them abundant for 
your support, and a blessed one you will find in 

their Christian preparation for death It 

is delightful to dwell upon the Christian virtues 
of our departed friends ; for, although it makes 
the consciousness of our loss the greater, it makes 
us feel that they are now safe in heaven, and 
the bitterness of sorrow yields to the blessed 

hope of meeting them there May you 

be abundantly sustained by Him whose love is 
the same in our trials as in our blessings, and 
who will make all things work together for good 
to them that love him." 

I pass now to one or two extracts from letters 
from others, respecting their departed pastor. 



MEMOIR. 



27 



"Kennebunk, Oct. 4, 1843. 
" There was something that was peculiar to 
himself. I always found him a social, pleasant 
companion, the most guarded in his expres- 
sions of any person I ever met with. I have 
often thought he never would be condemned for 
1 idle words.' In the sick chamber and the house 
of mourning, he was mild, affectionate, sooth- 
ing, and instructive ; every word seemed to touch 
the heart. There was always something in his 
preaching that made you feel your own sinfulness. 
I used to tell him I thought he was preaching 
directly to me, he seemed to hit, so exactly, the 
sins I was guilty of." 

Another letter informs us of Mr. Wells's being 
requested to visit a sick person, who had heard 
the preaching and been under the influence of a 
different denominaion of Christians. 

"Mrs. 's express desire was, that Mr. 

Wells should visit her, as her mind was in an un- 
happy state ; that she needed the aid of 

a judicious friend to counsel her I read 

the note to Mr. Wells, who observed, that, owing 
to the nature of his engagements, he much fear- 
ed he could not go ; — that, in case he did, his 
necuniary affairs must be neglected, although of 



28 



MEMOIR. 



the utmost importance to him, as he was to leave 
town the next day. As I saw an impossibility, 
as I thought, attending it, 1 returned sorrowful, 
as I knew he was the one who could give her 
enfeebled mind the aid she sought. After I left, 
you probably knew the events that induced him 
to change his mind ; but, to my infinite surprise 
and gratification, I found he had taken the few 
remaining moments which he had left for his 

own private affairs, to visit this stranger 

In a day or two, I went down, by request, to visit 
my friend, — and what a change ! Although so 
much exhausted by sickness that she could say 
but a few words at a time, she was all anima- 
tion Previously to Mr. Wells's visit, her 

friends had had daily and almost hourly access 
to her sick room, and had urged upon her a be- 
lief in the Atonement as they viewed it, and 
other doctrinal points, which required so much 
explanation to satisfy her that her mind was con- 
fused ; and the religion, that was to afford her 
the most comfort, afforded her the least, for she 
actually dreaded to hear it named in her room. 
She saw that she needed the realities of religion. 

Her friends grew anxious, as they saw 

how she was afflicted. They approved of her 
sending for Mr. Wells. He went, and it was 
like an angel's visit ; for, to the last moment of my 



MEMOIR. 



29 



poor friend's existence, she expatiated upon it, 
and esteemed it among the most important mo- 
ments of her life. In one of my last visits to 
her, she spoke of having lost her way, groping 

in the dark, and of the light afforded her 

It is my firm belief, that, had not Mr. Wells gone, 
her mental sufferings would have been terrible. 
Her state was almost bordering on insanity, and 
it required but a repetition of past scenes, with 
no palliation, to have deprived her of reason." 

We cannot forbear to add to the foregoing ex- 
tracts a few passages from other letters of Mr. 
Wells, — several for their interesting references, 
and one for its exceeding beauty. 

Extract from a letter to a friend, written pre- 
viously to his settlement in Kennebunk. 

" Boston, October 20th, 1827. 
" To-morrow night I take my departure from 
Boston for my new home. It would be in vain 
for me to attempt to express to you the feelings 
which, at times, come over me. I feel myself so 
unequal to the duties which will press upon me, 
that at times I feel discouraged ; but I drive 
them away with the idea that all I have to do 
is, to do as well as I can, and to leave the result. 
I care not for fame, — that is of little importance 



30 



MEMOIR. 



to me j but I do hope that it may be for the 
benefit rather than the injury of the parish of 
which I am to take the charge, that they have 
selected me rather than another. However, 
others have fulfilled similar duties, and have been 
placed in similar circumstances without doing 
injury to the cause in which they were engaged, 
and why should not I ? I shall have arduous 
duties to perform, and but little opportunity of 
relief by exchanges, — but all people have ar- 
duous duties, and why should I wish to be freed 
from them ? Thus I console myself, whenever I 
begin to despond." 

Extract from a letter written just after his set- 
tlement. 

" Kennebunk, Nov. 18th, 1827. 
" I can scarcely realize I am now a settled 
clergyman, and, when I look back upon the pe- 
riod of my ordination, I can hardly feel that such 
an event has taken place. That day, however, 
was one of intense interest to me ; and yet I 
felt less anxious and much more calm than I had 
expected to feel. The exercises of the day 
were very impressive. Every one of my society 
was pleased with them, and many from the 
neighbouring towns also. The clergymen in 
this vicinity are using all their efforts to prevent 



MEMOIR. 



31 



their people from hearing the doctrines which 
we believe and preach. In a neighbouring town, 
— Kennebunk Port, — there was a ' Church 
Fast ' on the day of my ordination, in order, no 
doubt, to prevent as many as possible from com- 
ing over to this town ; and I hear there is a sys- 
tem of violent preaching and denunciation and 
warning established around us. But the £ truth 
is strong and will prevail.' " 

In speaking of death, in a letter to a very near 
friend, he gives expression to a feeling which 
always seemed to be present to his mind. He 
says, 

"Kennebunk, Jan. 7th, 1833. 
" I do not know why it is, but I have the im- 
pression frequently and vividly made upon my 
mind, that I am not to have a long life. In all 
my reflections upon death, it seems to me that 
it is by no means a distant event. Perhaps this 
feeling arises from the early death of my brother 
and of my father. It does not arise from any 
ill health, for my health is very good. However, 
if this impression makes me more earnest in my 
work, — if I could realize that I have a great 
work to do, and but a short time in which to ac- 
complish it, I should esteem it a happy thing. 
But I cannot avoid the conviction, that I am by 



32 



MEMOIR. 



no means so faithful as I ought to be. I wish 
that I could more habitually feel the power of re- 
ligious principle, and the necessity of a supreme, 
self-forgetting devotion to my great employ- 
ment." 

In another letter to the same friend, he speaks 
of the impression made upon his mind by the 
death of one of his younger parishioners. 

"They buried him on the brow of a hill, 
around the foot of which swept a small river, 
and beyond, and all around, arose a forest of tall 
and aged pines. As we stood in silence while 
they lowered him into the earth, my mind was 
much impressed with the ideas which the scene 
awakened. There rolled the river, whose waters 
had been rushing by for unnumbered ages. 
There stood the forest, the slow growth of a 
century. But the little child, the creature of 
yesterday, over whose decaying remains friends 
were weeping, was to outlive this scene, and was 
destined to a glorious progress long after all out- 
ward things should be no more. There is that in 
the simple fact of our immortality which fills the 
mind with feelings that cannot be expressed. 
And amid the beautiful and sublime scenes of 
nature, which appear to us to be so permanent, 



MEMOIR. 



32 



these feelings are more strikingly experienced. 
How is it possible for so many persons to forget 
their own liability to death, when they have such 
constant warnings? How can we explain the 
total indifference and heedlessness which many 
manifest towards religion, who are wise and pru- 
dent in worldly matters ? I confess myself 
wholly at a loss, when I attempt to answer this 
question. It is one of the most unaccountable 
circumstances that we witness in this inconsis- 
tent, strange world." 

Extract from a letter to another friend severely 
afflicted. 

« Groton, August 23d, 1842. 
"I have feared that the deep trouble to which 
you have been called might have a seriously 
injurious effect upon your health ; and 1 believe 
you will agree with me, that, while God keeps 
us in life, however sad and solitary it may be, 
it becomes our duty to do what we can to pre- 
serve health, that thus we may be useful to 
others. He, who has a right to all that we 
can render, is best pleased when he sees us con- 
tributing to the good of those about us ; and the 
harder this may be, on account of our own 
heart's being overwhelmed with anguish, the 
more pleasing will the sacrifice be in his sight. 
3 



34 



MEMOIR. 



And you have so much, even in the bitterness of 
your bereavement, so much which many others 
have not, to make you resigned. He, in whom 
your heart was and is bound up, is now su- 
premely happy. You longed, while he was 
here, to do every thing to promote his happiness. 
Any sacrifice, however great, how cheerfully 
would you have made for his gratification ! And 
now that God has removed him, not from your 
affection, only from your mortal sight, and has 
given him, as we believe, all, and more than all, 
that the fondest earthly affection could desire for 
him, may not our joy at his bliss be some off- 
set to our grief at what we lose ? How many 
sad and bereaved hearts are deprived of such a 
glorious consolation ! You have it abundantly ; 
— and then all that earthly sympathy can give 
you, you have. It is a small offering, indeed ; 
but it must be some alleviation to the burden 
of your grief, to know how extensive and how 
deep the sympathy of your friends is. Yet, 
after all, our refuge and our support must be in 
God. His ways are often dark and mysterious. 
But we do know that blessed truth, for which we 
are indebted to our Saviour, that he is a Father, 
that he is a God of love. Under heavy trials, 
our hearts are sometimes tempted to ask, Can 
such trials come from a God of love ? can we 



MEMOIR. 



35 



reconcile them with his goodness ? Then must 
we bow before him, with a childlike trust. 
Where we cannot understand, we must believe. 
And, as Jesus said, ' What we know not now, we 
shall know hereafter.' I think a great deal of 
this. In heaven, the mysteries of earth will all 
be explained, and we shall delight to trace, in all 
the darker as well as the brighter dealings of 
Providence, our Father's love." 

Before concluding this Memoir, we have 
thought that we could not occupy our remaining 
space with any thing so valuable as the transcript 
of a letter which Mr. Wells wrote to a young 
woman, a member of his church, who, through 
the influence of friends of another persuasion, 
had become interested in different doctrines. It 
is somewhat extended, but we know not what to 
omit. 

" I trust that my neglect to reply to your let- 
ter will not be attributed to any unconcern re- 
specting your conformity with what appear to 
me to be the plain declarations of the word of 
God. Believing, as I do, the truths which I hold 
to be the emanations of divine wisdom and love, 
I cannot but regard them as most valuable and 
important. I cannot but wish that all might em- 



36 



MEMOIR. 



brace them. I do not, as you well know, re- 
gard my own peculiar views as essential to sal- 
vation, because I think I perceive that in the 
hearts of those who differ from me love to God 
and love to man dwell ; and upon the possession 
of these, according to our Saviour's declaration, 
depends our eternal happiness (Luke x. 28). 
Still, I believe that the nearer we come to the 
pure truth as it is in Jesus, the more our minds 
are freed from error and human addition to the 
simplicity of Christ, so much the more does our 
belief constrain us to cherish this love. Where- 
fore I look upon an irreligious Unitarian, one 
who has no love of God pervading, filling his 
soul, as more culpable than an irreligious person 
of any other creed ; and therefore, if I know my 
own heart, I desire and strive to promote the 
great and glorious gospel of the Saviour, as it 
reveals itself to my mind, because I thus believe 
that it is calculated to exert a more beneficent 
influence upon human souls, as it leaves the 
sinner wholly without excuse, when he refuses 
to embrace so great salvation. You wish that I 
should state to you wherein the opinions which 
you have expressed do not appear to me to be 
conformable with the Scriptures. This I shall 
endeavour to do, although a proper and full ex- 
amination of them would fill a volume instead 
of a letter. 



MEMOIR. 



37 



cc I commence with our state by nature. In re- 
gard to this, you say that it is sinful ; by which 
I understand you to mean, as you express it in 
another place, our £ own complete inability to 
fulfil the requirements of the law.' And what 
is the proof of this doctrine ? You advance 
passages of Scripture which speak of the wick- 
edness of man ; but do these prove the point to 
which you would bring them ? They prove, in- 
deed, the deep depravity of man, they pr6ve the 
fact of the sinfulness of the human heart ; but 
they prove nothing in regard to the origin of this 
depravity, they say nothing about its being in- 
herent in our nature. You add, ' What we derive 
frc m our own experience is a no less satisfactory 
proof of the fact.' Of what fact ? Of the fact of 
human depravity ? Granted. But not a proof of 
the origin of this depravity. All the statements 
in the Scriptures in regard to human depravity 
have reference to the fact of men's being sinners, 
but not to the source from which this came. 

" I have another objection to the doctrine of 
our 1 sinful state by nature,' and that is, it 
destroys accountability. I ask whether an ob- 
ligation to obey a law, and £ a complete inabili- 
ty to fulfil its requirements,' be not utterly incon- 
sistent with each other ? I ask whether the re- 
sponsibility of man be not based upon this very 



38 



MEMOIR. 



fact, that he has complete ability to fulfil the re- 
quirements of a law imposed ? Take away this 
ability, and you, of course, take away obliga- 
tion, you take away guilt in the disobedience 
of a law. A man can be under no moral obli- 
gation to do any thing but what he has the 
power to do. — I have another objection, that it 
casts the blame of our sins away from ourselves. 
If I have a sinful nature, whose fault is it ? 
Surely not my own ; — it may be my misfortune, 
but no one can say it is my fault. Whose, then, 
is the fault ? I must refer it either to my Maker 
or to Adam. Now if I am under this complete 
inability, whom must I blame for my sins ? If I 
cannot fulfil the requirements of the law, who is 
culpable ? I am not, certainly. I know that 
you will not acknowledge this inference, but I 
see not how you can avoid it. I know that you 
will say, as you do say, that our condemnation 
will be, that we have chosen darkness rather 
than light. But I ask you to compare this with 
an utter inability to avoid the curse of the law, 
and see whether they are consistent. No, my 
friend, our sins are, strictly speaking, and entirely, 
our own ; and we must bring the blame home en- 
tirely upon ourselves. And no doctrine, like that 
of human inability, which has any tendency to 
diminish in any degree this sense of accounta- 



MEMOIR. 



39 



bility for sin, can be true. God has, in mercy, 
given us such a nature, that we are capable of 
knowing, loving, and serving him. We, for our- 
selves, have degraded and abused and corrupted 
this nature. I do not say that we are born holy, 
because holiness is the acquired character of the 
soul, and it would be absurd to call it innate. 
But our nature is neither sinful nor holy; it is 
just what God saw fit to give us, and we are un- 
der the deepest guilt, because all our depravity, 
all our sin, is entirely our own work. O, let us 
feel this truth as we ought, and bring home our 
guilt to our own bosoms, and be humble and 
penitent ! 

" But you say that those who believe in this 
doctrine do feel their responsibility for their own 
sins. I know that they do ; and I rejoice in this, 
as a proof that ' the law written upon their 
hearts,' and the many declarations of the Scrip- 
tures, prevent this doctrine from exerting its legiti- 
mate influence. Let them only compare plainly 
and impartially this doctrine with the truth of 
their responsibility, and the grounds of their just 
condemnation for sin, and they must feel there 
is some inconsistency. 

¥ I would ask you to look at the commands, ex- 
postulations, warnings, entreaties, with which the 
Scriptures are filled. When God calls upon men 



40 



MEMOIR. 



to cease to do evil, and learn to do well, is he 
mocking them, by calling on them to do that 
which it is unnatural for them to do ? When he 
says, 'Cast away from you all your transgres- 
sions whereby ye have transgressed, and make 
you a new heart and a new spirit, for why will 
ye die ? ' is he then urging upon his people to do 
what they are incapable of doing ? For my own 
part, as long as I hear the voice of God, by his 
prophets, or his Son, Jesus Christ, calling men to 
repentance, calling them to obedience, and threat- 
ening punishment upon them if they neglect the 
call, I cannot, I dare not, say that my nature is 
such that I am incapable, in any sense or degree, 
of complying with his commands. If I could 
think that I was, I should feel released from 
some of that guilt which I now feel, through the 
imperfection of my obedience, and the sinfulness 
of my heart. O, do not, I beseech you, yield to 
a delusion (for I can call it by no other name) 
which throws the blame of sin upon your na- 
ture, which does not make you attach it wholly 
to your acquired character ! 

" I may seem to you to speak strongly upon 
this point. You know that I have always felt 
so, and that my feelings arise from a dread lest 
I should charge another with my own sinfulness 
and depravity. And I am persuaded, that, if you 



MEMOIR. 



41 



could view this subject as I do, in the light of 
God's infinite love and wisdom and justice ; if 
you could examine the Scriptures with an un- 
biased mind, comparing Scripture with itself, 
and not drawing your inferences from detached 
passages, but looking at the whole system of 
divine truth, — I am persuaded, I say, that you 
would, with a humble sense of sin, bring the 
blame wholly upon yourself; and, while deeply 
penitent for having degraded and corrupted the 
nature which God has given you, you would 
feel grateful to him, not only for his other gifts, 
but for your own nature, your own soul. 

" And I would seriously ask you, whether, with 
the views which you seem to entertain, you can 
in your heart thank God for your nature. I 
should like to say much more upon this subject, 
but I must go on to another. 

" You next speak of the penalty of the violated 
law. You refer to the strictness of the law of 
God, and you recite the punishment threatened 
against the disobedient. We all know, as you 
rightly say, that 6 we are all justly concluded un- 
der sin, that every mouth is stopped, and the 
whole world become guilty before God.' You 
ask, 1 Would not the acceptance of us by God, 
after declaring that he should be cursed who 
should not conform to all the words of the law 



42 



MEMOIR. 



to do them, be an acknowledgment that his law 
is not perfect ? ' I say, according to your own 
principles, it would not, because you say that 
they who have faith in Christ are freed from 
this curse. You do not take those threatenings, 
then, in an unqualified sense ; for, if you did, 
as every individual, Christian as well as heathen, 
saint as well as sinner, has violated the* law, he 
must endure the curse thereof. You make an 
exception to these expressions, which, taken by 
themselves are unqualified ; and why do you 
make this exception ? Your answer undoubtedly 
will be, because in other passages the Scriptures 
themselves make it. This is correct. Allow 
me the same liberty to interpret and limit Scrip- 
ture by Scripture, and it will appear that the 
threatenings have reference to and will be visit- 
ed upon the impenitent, and that those who re- 
pent of their sins will be forgiven, and the penal- 
ty of the law will not be exacted of them. For 
proof of the truth of this declaration, that the 
penalty is abrogated in the case of the penitent 
sinner, I would refer you to the eighteenth and 
thirty-third chapters of Ezekiel, which I wish 
you to read attentively, and then to compare 
what is said there with the question which you 
ask, that is, 1 Even if we repent, where is our 
hope ? ' If then you say that these threatenings 



MEMOIR. 



43 



exclude pardon upon condition of penitence, be- 
cause no such provision or limitation is stated in 
the law itself, I say likewise, with the same rea- 
son, that they exclude pardon upon condition of 
faith in Christ, because no such limitation is 
stated in the law itself. If you wish for proof 
of the efficacy of repentance in procuring pardon, 
and deliverance from the penalty of the law, I 
refer you to such passages as follow : c Repent 
and turn yourselves from all your transgressions, 
so iniquity shall not be your ruin.' 1 Except 
you repent, you shall all likewise perish.' That 
is, if you do repent, iniquity will not be your 
ruin, — you will not perish. ' Repent ye, there- 
fore, and be converted, that your sins may be 
blotted out.' Look into your concordance and 
examine all the passages upon the subject, and 
you cannot fail easily to answer the question, 
' If we repent, where is our hope ? ' Look at 
the parable of the prodigal son. Our Saviour 
represented there, certainly, the feelings of God 
to the sinner, and the condition of acceptance ; 
did he not ? What is this condition ? Repent- 
ance, deep repentance, and so will our Father 
forgive our trespasses. O, do not reject the 
plain teachings of the Scriptures, do not be- 
wilder your mind with any metaphysical subtil- 
ties, but embrace the truth and humbly rejoice 



44 



MEMOIR. 



in it ! How can you, upon your principles, be 
satisfied with asking forgiveness of sin in the 
words of the Lord's prayer ? how can you fail 
to believe that our Saviour has omitted there the 
most important ground of pardon ? And can you 
believe, that, if our forgiveness rests upon the 
ground which you state, it ought not to be men- 
tioned, when seeking the pardon of our sins? 
The petition implies that repentance be mani- 
fested in the most unequivocal manner, by 
forgiving our fellow-men for the offences they 
have committed against us ; but it does not con- 
vey the most distant allusion to the doctrine for 
which you contend. Surely, you would not say 
that it is not enough for us to pray in that form, 
and with reference to those truths which our 
Saviour has given us in this simple, and, to my 
view, perfect, model of our devotional exercises. 

" Again, as it respects Adam, you say that he 
came holy from the hand of God, but that he 
transferred himself, and of course all his pos- 
terity, by sin, into the kingdom of Satan. I 
thought, that, in the last conversation which we 
held, you acknowledged the correctness of my 
opinion ; but you have brought forward no ad- 
ditional proofs now, in favor of this opinion 
which you have adopted. Holiness in a created 
being is, from its very nature, an acquired thing. 



MEMOIR. 



45 



It is the result of the action of the spiritual prin- 
ciple of the soul. And to speak of a person's 
being born or created holy is like saying that 
any one is born learned. And as to Adam, what 
difference is there between him before he sinned, 
and the child before he sins ? The first tempta- 
tion to which he was exposed, so far as we know, 
overcame him, — a temptation which many of 
his descendants might have resisted ; and we can 
find nothing in any child, showing depravity, more 
than this fact concerning Adam. The Scriptures 
do not teach us that Adam was different from 
any of us, so far as his nature is concerned. You 
referred me to passages in which Adam is said 
to have been created in the image of God. In 
answer, you will recollect that it is stated, that, 
whatever this image may be, we all have it. Gen. 
ix. 6 ; 1 Cor. xi. 7. So that the application to 
Adam does not imply any peculiar relation which 
he bore to God, which we do not all bear. I can 
see no reason from Scripture to conclude that 
Adam, in his moral powers or tendencies, was in 
any respect different from any one of us. From 
what we know of his history, on the contrary, 
we have reason to conclude, that, like us, he had 
a spiritual and an animal nature, — the former 
leading him to seek his Maker, the latter leading 
him to seek his own gratification ; that the 



46 



MEMOIR. 



principles of his animal nature were constantly- 
struggling for the preeminence, and that they at- 
tained it. This is the case with us. Here is 
this conflict going on in every human soul. 
Upon your principles, however, there would be no 
conflict, for the tendency would be wholly to 
sin. 

" The next subject which you consider is the 
Atonement. And I agree with you in regarding 
it as one of the most deeply interesting and im- 
portant topics that can engage our attention. 
The relation which we sustain to Jesus, and the 
obligations we are under to him, are involved in 
this doctrine. You say, that we differ materially 
in the extent to which we go. We do indeed. 
You limit the chief benefit of his death to the 
influence which it exerts upon the operations of 
the divine government. You regard it as chiefly 
valuable, not in its effects upon the human soul, 
but in its mysterious influence in rendering it 
just in God to pardon sinners. I look upon it 
as designed chiefly to exert a power upon the 
human soul ; to bring it forth from the bondage 
of sin ; to redeem it from all iniquity ; to raise it 
to a due sense of its relations to God and to 
eternity ; and to prepare it for glory, honor, 
and immortality. I know not a work in the 
universe more glorious or sublime than this. 



MEMOIR. 



47 



And I see in him, who willingly devoted himself 
to it, an energy of love like the divine love, an 
image of that infinite benevolence which he at- 
tributed to his Father in heaven. 

" We ought to have a clear understanding of 
the true meaning of any terms which we employ, 
before we undertake to discuss any question in 
relation to them. What is the meaning, then, of 
the word Atonement ? This word, perhaps you 
are aware, is used only once in the English New 
Testament, Rom. v. 11. The Greek noun, of 
which it is a translation, is used four times ; and 
in all the other passages, namely, Rom. xi. 
15, 2 Cor. v. 18, 19, you will perceive, on turn- 
ing to them, that the meaning is reconciliation , 
and therefore the sense of Rom. v. 11 would 
be much more clearly expressed, if the trans- 
lators had rendered the same word in the same 
way. But no, they had their own peculiar 
opinions, which they wished the Scripture to 
favor as much as possible, and therefore they so 
translated the word. Nor is this by any means 
the only instance in which they have evidently 
been swayed by their own opinions in their trans- 
lation of Scripture terms. 

" The question, then, comes up, Does the death 
of Christ reconcile God to man, or man to God ? 
Now, by looking carefully at the passages above 



48 



MEMOIR. 



cited, you will perceive, that, in every instance, 
it is represented, that we must be reconciled to 
God, that our impenitent hearts must be soften- 
ed, and our love of sin and alienation from God 
must be removed, and that we must return unto 
the Lord humble and penitent. Now that we 
know what Atonement means, we are prepared 
to consider the passages which have relation to 
this subject, but where the word itself is not em- 
ployed. And what do all these passages teach ? 
They teach that Christ died for our sins, that he 
was wounded for our transgressions, that is, that 
his death, in a word, was by reason of our sins. 
They teach that through his stripes we are heal- 
ed, by his death we are made fit for heaven. 
They do not, in a single instance, point to that 
method in which you say this effect is produced. 
If you can, I wish that you would point out 
such a passage, for I have never met with any 
in the Bible. 

" The question recurs, How does the death of 
Jesus affect our salvation ? In what sense does 
he bear the sins of the world ? Will you say 
that he endured the anger of God, that God 
looked upon him with the displeasure with which 
sin is ever regarded by the ' Holy One ' ? Will 
you say that Jesus endured any of the agonies 
of remorse which torment the sinner's soul, 



MEMOIR. 49 

which give him even here a dreadful foretaste 
of the wretchedness of the life to come ? You 
would not, I believe, assert this. Would you 
say that these sufferings and that death could do 
us any good, except just so far as they have an 
influence upon our hearts ? Nothing can be pro- 
duced to prove any more than this. On the con- 
trary, wherever the design of our Saviour's death 
is mentioned, it is expressly stated to be, that it 
may have this effect upon us. He died that we 
might live. He came to redeem us from all 
iniquity. He died, the just for the unjust, that 
he might bring us to God. By his stripes we 
are healed. Healed of what ? Certainly of sin. 
Why was the name Jesus given him ? Because 
he shall save his people from their sins ; — that 
they which live should not henceforth live unto 
themselves, but unto Him that loved them and 
gave himself for them. All these, and numerous 
other passages which might be adduced, together 
with passages above mentioned, relating to the 
reconciliation of the world to God, are suffi- 
cient to show the truth upon this point, and to 
lead us to look upon the Atonement as a recon- 
ciliation of the sinner to his Father. In this 
connection I would have you read all that our 
Saviour himself has said upon this subject. I 
would refer you again to the parable of the 
4 



50 



MEMOIR- 



prodigal son. Would our Saviour have there 
presented to his disciples a view of truth, which, 
upon your principles, is certainly an imperfect 
one ? Would he have omitted there the mention 
of a doctrine which you say is absolutely essen- 
tial? Is such a course consistent with his char- 
acter and his goodness to us ? Love, infinite 
love, moved the Father to send his Son into the 
world, and all that Jesus did and suffered for 
us is an exhibition of that love. O, do not 
turn away from this simple and glorious doc- 
trine ! I look upon it as so adapted to win our 
souls to the love of God, that I would entreat 
you to weigh well and carefully every passage 
having any bearing upon the subject, before you 
reject it. My time does not allow me to enter 
so fully into it as I could wish. Let me ad- 
vise you to examine the work of Dr. Wor- 
cester upon this subject. You will find there 
the spirit, and, I believe, the glorious truths, of 
the gospel. It is some time since I looked 
into it ; but when I read it, I considered it un- 
answerable. May you be guided into all truth ; 
but whether, as the result of your investigations, 
you embrace my views or not, I trust and pray 
that you may be led to that devotedness to God, 
and that love of our Lord Jesus Christ, which it 
is the chief object of the truths he has revealed 
to produce in the human soul. 



MEMOIR. 



51 



" Permit me, in closing this part of my remarks, 
to give an illustration of the different views which 
we hold. Here is a father who has two children ; 
one of them is faithful and obedient, the other is 
an open profligate. Now the father sends his 
obedient son to reclaim his sinful brother. He 
goes after him with deep compassion ; he labors 
for his deliverance from sin. But the father has 
said, ' Even if your brother repent, if he comes, 
humbled and conscious of his sins, and begs for 
mercy, and leads a new life, I will not forgive 
him, unless you, my obedient son, will consent 
to bear the punishment. Your brother has 
violated my commands, and has deserved the 
torments of death ; and he shall endure them, 
notwithstanding his penitence, unless you will 
suffer in his stead.' Such is the doctrine of the 
Atonement, as you appear to hold it. As I view 
it, this would be a more suitable illustration. 
The father sends his son to reclaim his sinful 
brother, to seek and to save that which was lost. 
'Do what you can,' says he, 'to bring his heart 
right.' He goes forth, he finds him in sin, he 
labors for him, he entreats, he sets before him 
the love of their father, he warns him of the 
consequences of sin ; he suffers persecution at 
his hands ; but still, upon the divine principle of 
overcoming evil with good, he perseveres ; and 



52 



MEMOIR. 



at last he dies, in consummation of this work. 
His brother's heart is won by the strength of 
that love, he returns to his father, he acknow- 
ledges his sins, he begs for mercy. His father 
freely forgives him, and receives him joyfully. 
So is the sinner won by the cross of his Saviour. 
He sees in it the evidence of a mighty love. He 
sees in it the means which his Heavenly Father 
uses, and which his Saviour willingly employs, 
in order to win him back to holiness. His heart 
cannot resist the power of that love. He comes 
to God, and with humble penitence begs for 
mercy. Such are illustrations of the two sys- 
tems. I want you to say which is most calcu- 
lated to make men Christians. 

" Your views of faith in Christ appear to me 
to be singularly incorrect, and you seem to think 
that you alone, and those who agree with you, 
have any faith in him. What is faith in Christ ? 
Is it not a belief in Jesus as the Messiah ? Is it 
not a full confidence in all that he said and did 
and suffered ? And what is its value to us ? Is it 
of any importance, except it have an influence 
upon our hearts ? If you will attend to the pur- 
port of the apostolic Epistles, you will per- 
ceive that they have constant reference to the 
controversy which had arisen between the Jew- 
ish and Gentile converts. The former insisted 



MEMOIR. 



53 



upon the necessity of the Mosaic law ; the latter 
denied its necessity. The Apostles sought to 
convince the former that under this law they 
could not be justified, but that faith was now 
the ground upon which men must look for jus- 
tification. Faith you will perceive to be a gene- 
ral term for the Christian dispensation, as law 
was a general term for the Mosaic. This is ac- 
knowledged by every critic who has ever written 
upon this subject, whether Orthodox or Unita- 
rian. And therefore we ought to include in our 
idea of faith, not a mere belief, but a living, 
operating belief, — a belief of the heart, which 
results in a devotedness of the powers of the 
soul to God. Surely we shall agree, I trust, in 
thinking that no other faith is of any value, and 
that its value must depend upon the influence 
which it exerts. You seem to limit the phrase 
to a faith in the application of Christ's righteous- 
ness to us. This appears to me wholly a gra- 
tuitous limitation. With the Bible before me, 
with what Paul and James said upon this sub- 
ject, I cannot, I dare not so limit it. I look upon 
it as including all that our Redeemer taught, all 
that he was, all that he endured ; and I measure 
the value of faith by the influence which these 
combined considerations exert upon the heart 
and life. Our Saviour clearly shows that re- 



54 



MEMOIR. 



ligion consists in love to God and love to man. 
Faith is valuable so far, and no farther, as it 
conduces to the production of this love ; for, 
as I before stated, our Saviour has declared, 
that if a man have these he will be saved. 

" I trust that you will not be displeased, if 
I point out what seem to me to be some er- 
rors in the views which you take of divine 
truth. Is there not a contradiction in saying, 
our condemnation will be, that we have chosen 
darkness rather than light, when, at the same 
time, you speak of a complete inability to per- 
form the requirements of the law ? Is there 
no contradiction between this inability and the 
duty of first seeking the kingdom of God and 
his righteousness by faith in the Lord Jesus 
Christ ? How can you get this faith ? Do 
you say, that it is given in answer to prayer ? 
Whence comes the disposition to ask ? If you 
say, that we may have that from a view of the 
wants of the soul, this destroys your doctrine of 
inability. If you say, that we cannot have it ex- 
cept it be first given us, where can be our con- 
demnation for not having it? The following 
passage is near the close of your letter. ' You 
will probably say, that it is on the mercy of 
God, not on any righteousness of your own, that 
you depend for salvation ; in which case (if from 



MEMOIR. 



55 



no merits of your own or of another), why is not 
mercy extended to all ? Why this partiality ? ' 
In reply, permit me to say, that you depend up- 
on the merits of Christ for salvation. Now why 
are not these merits applied to others, as well as 
to yourself ? Why this partiality ? Do you not 
perceive that the same difficulty lies against your 
views, which lies against mine ? You will say, 
undoubtedly, that it is only to those who have 
faith, that any promise of pardon is made. Well, 
I would say, that it is only to those who repent, 
that any promise of pardon is made ; and faith 
is necessary, not of itself, but as leading to this 
repentance. But you there ask me, whether I 
do not make a £ righteousness ' of this repent- 
ance. In reply, I ask you, do you not also 
make a 1 righteousness ' of your faith ? So that 
you will perceive, that, upon this ground, the 
same objections may be made to your doctrine 
as to mine. What is faith ? A feeling of the 
heart, — and so is repentance. You depend up- 
on the former for acceptance. I depend upon 
both of them ; but not as giving me the least 
claim, but only as the conditions upon which 
the mercy of God is offered ; which I do not 
think you can dispute, for you allow that faith 
is a necessary condition of acceptance. 

" You say, in closing, that you ascribe more to 



56 



MEM OIK. 



Jesus Christ than could belong to a created being. 
I do not see that you ascribe to him any more 
than I do ; and I ask whether you are the judge 
how much the Father could give to the Son. I 
ask whether you would presume to say, that the 
power, however great-, which our Saviour pos- 
sessed, could not belong to any created being. 
When he himself has said, ' All power is given 
unto me in heaven and on earth ' ; ' I can of 
mine own self do nothing ' ; 1 The Father that 
dwelleth in me, He doeth the works ' j I cannot 
but consider that you would make too rash an 
inference in this case. While I see such decla- 
rations of Jesus, I cannot say or believe that he 
was uncreated. 

" In your examination of the Scriptures, you 
appear to have confined your attention chiefly 
to the Epistles ; and, in studying them, you 
seem not to have regarded the immediate special 
purpose for which they were written. All al- 
low, that there were controversies which took 
place in the early history of the church, and that 
the Epistles appear to have been called forth by 
special circumstances. No one can read them 
without perceiving this. Now, if the writers of 
them had such reference to their existing cir- 
cumstances, we ought to interpret their meaning 
by a reference to these same circumstances. We 



MEMOIR. 



57 



ought to acquaint ourselves with them, and not 
give a general sense to a term or phrase which 
had a peculiar reference. We should consider 
this absurd at the present day. The Epistles 
were primarily designed to meet the exigencies 
of the times ; in so far as they do that, of course 
a knowledge of these exigencies is necessary to 
understand the terms used. Have you attended 
to these circumstances ? or have you not rather 
read the Epistles as if they had no special refer- 
ence ? Have you pursued the right plan in your 
studies ? If we wish to ascertain any doctrine, 
our first inquiry should be, What did Jesus say 
about it ? Our next, What did the Apostles say 
about it, when they went where this religion was 
never before known ? They knew what was 
most important, and they would not keep back 
any thing at such times. We should next ap- 
ply to the Epistles. We should first read them 
in connection with the Acts of the Apostles, to 
ascertain, as far as possible, those particular oc- 
casions which called them forth, the peculiar er- 
rors, in opinion and in practice, upon which the 
writers address their converts ; and, in brief, we 
ought to learn all that can be learned in regard 
to their peculiar belief and situation ; and then 
we shall be prepared, by the light of this pre- 
vious knowledge, to ascertain the meaning of 



58 



MEMOIR. 



the Apostles, and to search for the doctrines 
which they teach. Is not this course the only 
thorough and reasonable course ? Without it, 
can we expect to gain such clear and true 
views as we might ? Have you adopted this 
course ? If you have not, I hope you will 
begin anew, and, casting away all your preju- 
dices, humbly seek the truth. 

" I wish that I might have sent you an answer 
sooner, and that I could have devoted more at- 
tention to this. But apologies are needless. I 
trust that you may come back to the simplicity 
which is in Christ. But, above all, I hope that 
you may have a divine blessing on your progress 
in holiness, and be at last brought to that world 
where all darkness will cease, where divine truth 
shall shine into the souls of the redeemed. Let 
it be our endeavour, ' by a patient continuance 
in well-doing, to seek for glory, honor, and im- 
mortality.' " 

¥ 

We have received, from a near relative and 
closely attached friend, the following account of 
Mr. Wells's illness, which we cannot suffer our- 
selves to put into any different shape. 

" During the autumn, his health (which had 
been delicate for several years) became much 



MEMOIR. 



59 



more feeble. In November, he was called to 
Boston by severe illness in the family. Yery 
soon he became quite ill himself. Anxiety for 
his flock led him to exert himself to return 
home, and resume his duties, before he had 
regained his usual strength. He labored with 
increased earnestness until the first of February, 
when he was attacked with a violent sick-head- 
ache, which was followed by extreme exhaus- 
tion, and derangement of the digestive organs. 
His sight became seriously affected, and very 
soon he was unable to recognize those around 
him. This was attributed to weakness, and did 
not cause alarm in the minds of his friends. 
In sickness as in health, his entire disinterest- 
edness was ever apparent j solicitude for the 
comfort and welfare of those around him was 
his constant sentiment. Not the smallest atten- 
tion was received unmarked by grateful ac- 
knowledgments. He was at all times cheerful, 
and dwelt much on the advantages of sickness, 
and loved to speak of the happy hours it afford- 
ed one for meditation and self-communion. He 
was very fond of music, and often attempted 
to sing some favorite tune. When obliged to 
relinquish this, he would continue repeating the 
hymn to the end. He frequently repeated, very 
impressively, selections from the Psalms, and 



60 



MEMOIR. 



spoke of their great force and beauty. Although 
sensible of increased weakness, he entertained, 
at all times, full confidence in the belief that he 
should regain his usual health, which his friends 
felt themselves authorized in cherishing until a 
short time previous to his death. On the Satur- 
day before his decease, he was suddenly seized 
with a violent pain in the region of the heart. 
Notwithstanding his own belief that he should 
recover, he received the intelligence of his im- 
minent danger with perfect composure. Owing 
to his great difficulty of breathing, he was able 
to utter but a few words ; but what he did say 
showed as strongly the firmness of his faith, as 
if he had spoken volumes. After a moment's 
pause, he said, 1 It is hard to break these ties, 
but God's will be done.' He took leave of his 
beloved wife, desiring her to e be calm, and put 
her trust in her God,' and said a few words to 
his children and those about him. Contrary to 
the expectation of his physician and friends, in 
a few hours he revived considerably. But £is 
mind wandered often, and his debility was ex- 
cessive. He remained in this state until Thurs- 
day, when a new difficulty arose. His sufferings 
became so intense, that he was not able to con- 
verse during the intervals of return of reason. 
The skill and devoted attention of his physicians 



MEMOIR. 



61 



proved unavailing ; his agony for the last twen- 
ty-four hours of his life was indescribable. His 
pure spirit was released on the night of the 
seventeenth of March. I wish he had been per- 
mitted to converse more freely in his last hours ; 
yet, by his calm and trustful manner of meet- 
ing his Father's summons to depart, rather than 
by any words he could have spoken, did he con- 
vince us, that the same faith, that animated and 
cheered him in life, failed him not in the hour of 
trial. Through life, as in death, did he ever 
act out the principles he professed. When speak- 
ing of the insecurity of a death-bed repentance, 
how earnestly would he exclaim, ' The Life, — 
let us look to our lives ! ' " 

We have thus, with an affectionate and rev- 
erent hand, gathered together some memorials 
of the excellence of our departed brother and 
friend. It may seem a loose biography. We 
had intended, at first, to weave the materials 
into something that should look more like a 
robe without seam. But where there is a 
great and noble character to describe, there is 
little need of the form of philosophy, or the la- 
bor of generalization. We need only hold up 
the character simply as it is, with no setting 
but the daily and homely incidents of life, and 



62 



MEMOIR. 



bearing no mark of pressure from our hands. 
The natural impressions, which such a character 
makes on the various minds with which it comes 
in contact, are its best and only necessary tes- 
timonials. Such impressions we have endeav- 
oured, as far as we might, to present. And there 
is a verity for the heart in their undesigned re- 
semblance, coming, as they do, from so many 
widely separated quarters, with whose power no 
description could vie. 

His brethren in the ministry affectionately 
commend to God his afflicted wife and family 
for the consolation they can never cease to need 
in their loss. The memory of the past will be 
a fountain of peace, till the future they hope for 
becomes present, to exceed, in its now incon- 
ceivable joy, every thing earthly. 

We will close this broken account with a po- 
etical sketch, written by Mr. Wells at the earnest 
desire of a dear friend, in which he has uncon- 
sciously drawn his own character. 

FIDELITER. 

LINES SUGGESTED BY LONGFELLOW'S " EXCELSIOR." 

The shades of night have passed away, — 
Its darkness kindles into day. 
On Calvary's height a maiden stood, 
And on the cross she reads the word, 
Fideliter. 



MEMOIR. 



And while in reverential awe 
She kneels that bloody tree before, 
A ray from heaven, divinely bright, 
Writes on her heart in living light, 
Fideliter. 

Forth, amid life's delusive snares, 
Its hollow mirth, corroding cares, 
She goes, — unmoved by its deceits ; 
For still a voice within repeats, 

Fideliter. 

Flattery allures with syren song; 
Earth's dazzling pleasures tempt to wrong 
And, veiled in light, dark forms of sin 
Labor to quench the light within, 

Fideliter. 

Nobly the maiden casts aside 
The lures of earth, the snares of pride ; 
And closer, closer to her breast, 
Her dearest, holiest treasure pressed 
Fideliter. 

A storm is nigh ; dark lowers the day, 
And lonelier, gloomier, grows her way. 
'Hast thou no fear ?' a stranger cries. 
' No fear,' the maiden calm replies 
Fideliter. 

That storm-cloud gathers o'er her path, — 
It bursts with desolating wrath. 
No earthly refuge now is nigh, 
No friendly voice is there to cry 

Fideliter. 



MEMOIR. 



No faltering step betrays alarm ; 
She faints not, fails not, fears not harm ; 
No tempest's rage can cause delay, 
But still she treads the narrow way 
Fideliter. 

Life's storms are o'er. The evening sun 
Tells her of rest. Her race is run. 
Camly she sinks to her repose. 
In Him she trusts, who Life bestows 
Fideliter. 

I see her spirit wing its flight 
To regions of immortal light. 
I hear a voice, — ** Come, blessed one! 
Life's arduous, glorious work thou 'st done 
Fideliter.' 

In life's bright morn, O, let thy heart 
Wisely prefer the better part! 
Look to the cross ; by that prevail ! 
'T will guard thee safe through life's dark vale 
Fideliter. 

And when thy day of life is o'er, 
'T will guide thee to that heavenly shore, 
Where, far beyond life's stormy wave, 
To Him who freely died to save, 
Thy love, thy life, thine all, thou 'It give 
Fideliter. 



SERMONS. 



5 



SERMONS. 



SERMON I. 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 

BUT THOU ART THE SAME, AND THV YEARS SHALL HAVE NO END. 

Ps. cii. 27. 

Although in the gospel of our Saviour the 
doctrines of our religion shine forth with a 
brighter splendor, and though our hopes rest 
upon what he has revealed to us, we may often 
profitably recur to the former Scriptures for in- 
struction and improvement. We frequently find, 
especially in the Psalms of David, the most 
sublime descriptions of the Supreme Being, such 
as are eminently calculated to call forth venera- 
tion and gratitude, and to produce highly use- 
ful impressions upon our hearts. In his descrip- 
tions of God's attributes, he rises into a sublimi- 
ty, which, in a merely poetical point of view, 



68 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



would place him among the greatest and best of 
that class of writers ; and when we remember 
that he had received in a peculiar manner com- 
munications from God, and was permitted to 
look forward with a prophetic glance to the days 
when life and immortality were to be brought to 
light, we cannot, but regard his writings with 
deep interest, and should study them with that 
reverence which may make them produce the 
best influence upon our hearts. In the Psalm 
from which our text is taken, David had been 
pouring forth the sorrows of his soul under some 
of the severe trials of his eventful life ; and from 
a consideration of the frailty and weakness of 
every thing human, from the changes which 
even the most durable of earthly and material 
things must experience, he turns his thoughts 
to the unchangeableness of God, and, by the 
contrast which he thus draws, impresses upon 
the mind one of the most striking, and, when 
rightly considered, one of the most consoling 
and glorious, of the attributes of God, — that 
which gives stability to every other, and inspires 
the soul with confidence. Let us enter into 
some reflections upon the immutability of God, 
and then draw those inferences which justly 
result from such a truth. 

I. God is immutable in his existence. " Thou 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



69 



art the same, and of thy years there shall be no 
end." Individuals rise up, as inhabitants of 
earth they continue for a little time, and then 
they sink in death. It is but as yesterday and 
we were not ; to-morrow, where shall we be ? 
Look abroad upon the men who are now en- 
gaged in the active scenes of life. In a little 
while they will all disappear, others will come 
into their places, and shortly there will be none 
to say that they have been. Generation after 
generation is pressing forward, and they pass 
away and are forgotten. And thus it is with na- 
tions. They rise, they flourish, they decay, they 
fall ; other empires are established upon their 
ruins, only to pass through the same changes, 
and to experience the same ruin. Throughout 
the vast system of nature, we meet with the 
same law of change and decay. " Of old hast 
thou laid the foundations of the earth, and the 
heavens are the work of thy hands. They shall 
perish, but thou shalt endure. Yea, all of them 
shall wax old like a garment ; as a vesture shalt 
thou change them and they shall be changed." 
And now while we speak, are these changes con- 
tinually going on throughout all nature. There 
is nothing certain or permanent. We look above 
all these things, however, to Him who swayeth 
the sceptre of the universe, and he is unchanged. 



70 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



From the dark and unfathomable ages of the 
past he has existed, -and throughout all the un- 
known future he will continue to exist the same. 
Carry yourself back to the farthest flight of the 
imagination, far, far beyond the time when " the 
morning stars sang together, and all the sons of 
God shouted for joy," and still you are but on 
the very threshold of a past eternity. But such 
thoughts are too high, too vast, for mortal con- 
ception or imagination. In the feebleness of 
our own minds, we must acknowledge the gran- 
deur and majesty of a Being of whom we can- 
not say, " He began to be." " And of his years 
there shall be no end." Go onward in your 
imaginations as far as possible into the region of 
futurity, and there will you find the Father of 
Lights, with whom is no variableness neither 
shadow of turning. Come back, now, child of 
the dust, into thyself, and feel thine own nothing- 
ness. Come, and in the silence of thine own 
soul bow down before the Eternal One and 
adore. Children of time, reverence the Being 
who always was and ever will be. — God, un- 
changeable, eternal. 

II. God is unchangeable in his purposes. 
Whatever designs he has formed he will con- 
tinue to carry on ; whatever plans he has laid 
will never be changed until they be accomplish- 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



71 



ed. If God has formed designs concerning man, 
is it to be supposed that he will ever relinquish 
them ? Is he like one of us, that he should ca- 
priciously alter the purposes which he once had 
in view ? Are not these purposes the results of 
infinite benevolence and infinite wisdom ? and 
can it be that God should ever form purposes 
contrary to the dictates of these glorious attri- 
butes? Does he seem to vary, when, after hav- 
ing bestowed blessings upon his creatures, he 
suddenly takes away those blessings ? Be as- 
sured, the same wisdom and goodness direct ; 
and it is either to save from sin, to awaken to 
holiness, or to produce a still deeper interest in 
the advancement of the soul towards himself, that 
he apparently changes his purposes. It is only 
apparent. These designs remain the same. He 
sees it best to accomplish them in various ways 
and by various means. These purposes, we 
have reason to believe, are ever those of love ; 
and we believe this, because we can conceive 
of no other than a benevolent motive, a desire 
to dirTuse happiness among his creatures, which 
could have induced him to create man, and to 
exercise over him a moral government. We 
cannot suppose that he was originally desirous 
of making his creatures miserable ; for then we 
should have seen around us innumerable in- 



72 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



stances of contrivance for the very purpose of 
producing misery ; whereas now we see only 
contrivances for the production of comfort and 
happiness. Nor was he originally indifferent ; 
for then he would never have called this world 
and his rational creatures into existence. He 
must have been originally benevolent in his 
purposes, and his immutability leads us to the 
belief that he always will be so. These pur- 
poses, however, we think, are never, in any 
manner or degree, inconsistent with the free 
agency of man. That doctrine is of too great 
importance to man's highest happiness ever to 
be discarded or destroyed ; and whenever we 
speak of the purposes of God, we must ever con- 
sider them as carried on in accordance with hu- 
man free agency. Thus, it is confessedly the 
purpose of God, that men should all become 
holy and happy. He is not willing that any 
should perish, but that all should come to re- 
pentance. And he desires not the death of the 
wicked, but rather that he should return and 
live. But we cannot believe that he would take 
away man's free agency in order to accomplish 
these purposes. Indeed, we see that he does 
not. He sets before them motives, and gives 
them the means of advancement in holiness, but 
he does nothing more ; because motive is the 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



73 



only instrument by which he would act upon 
the mind, the only instrument by which it can 
be influenced, and still retain that which is es- 
sential to its very nature, its freedom of choice. 
It is the purpose of God that men should come 
to the knowledge of the truth, and be saved ; 
but they may reject the offers which he holds 
out to them, and thus fail of attaining happiness, 
for it is likewise his immutable purpose that 
happiness shall be obtained only in one way, by 
the free choice of true holiness. 

And here we may take notice of those expres- 
sions in Scripture which may appear to be 
opposed to this immutability of the divine pur- 
poses. God is said to repent of the calamities 
which he had threatened or sent upon those 
who had been disobedient, and to revoke his 
former determination. Now it may be observed, 
that, in the Old Testament especially, God is 
often spoken of as possessing similar feelings 
with man. In the infancy of the human mind, 
when it could hardly comprehend any thing of 
a spiritual being, it was necessary to adapt the 
language which was used in regard to such a 
being to human comprehension. In truth, there 
is no change in God, but in man. In him 
there is ever the same constant purpose of pro- 
ducing in men certain effects, of leading them, 



74 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



for example, to repentance and to holiness ; but 
he adapts his peculiar dispensations to the change 
which may have taken place in their characters. 

III. God, likewise, is unchangeable in the 
laws by which he governs the world, in his 
natural as well as in his moral government. He 
annexes certain rewards or punishments to the 
observance or neglect of his commands ; and 
no power in the universe can change or check 
the execution of these laws. By the very con- 
stitution of the human mind, he has for ever 
connected virtue and happiness, vice and misery ; 
and neither here nor hereafter will that mind be 
so essentially altered in its constitution, that 
different results should spring from these differ- 
ent sources. This same law may produce dif- 
ferent effects upon the same individual at differ- 
ent times, according to his greater or less con- 
formity to the divine will ; but this is only a fur- 
ther proof of its real immutability. Thus, when 
sin has been followed by its just and necessary 
consequences upon the soul, — by misery, — 
then the conscience may be awakened, a sense of 
guilt called forth, and penitence and reforma- 
tion may follow. Then there comes to that 
mind a peace which it did not know while 
under the bondage of sin, — the peace of forgive- 
ness, — resulting not from a change in the divine 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



75 



laws, not in the suspension of those laws, but 
from a change in the state of the soul, by which 
it is brought under the operation of another law, 
which connects its condition of penitence and 
reformation with peace and happiness. So that, 
in this sense, the forgiveness of the sinner, upon 
a repentance from sin, implies no change in 
God, but is consequent upon the change which 
has taken place in his own soul. 

And when I speak of the laws which God 
has established, I do not mean that he has estab- 
lished such a kind of government over the mind 
as dispenses with his immediate agency, and re- 
moves him, as it were, from the superintendence 
of the world. We have the fullest reason to 
believe, that, in the natural world, what we 
call general laws are only the various uniform 
modes by which the Deity is exercising his im- 
mediate power, and that, in a true sense, he is 
the life and light of all this glorious universe ; 
that it is his hand which upholds, and his im- 
mediate care which protects, the humblest of his 
creatures ; so that, without him, not even a 
sparrow falleth to the ground. And so in the 
human mind he is ruling as immediately. He 
has not withdrawn himself at a distance from 
his moral universe, nor has he given it up to the 
regulation of certain laws, which can, as it were, 



76 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



execute themselves. No, God is here the source 
and centre of every thing. By his own imme- 
diate, constant, and immutable agency, he car- 
ries on all his plans, and executes all his laws ; 
and the pang which attends guilt within the 
sinner's soul, and which, sooner or later, will 
make itself felt, and the joy which springs up 
in the heart of the good man, when he exer- 
cises a pious confidence in God, or quells the 
power of temptations, or promotes the happiness 
of others, is the direct act of Him who will in- 
variably bring misery to sin and peace to virtue. 
Let us not, then, because God is immutable in 
his laws, separate him from his works. He is 
here, he is everywhere, carrying on all the plans 
of his government guided by the same un- 
changeable purposes and motives, and seeking 
to accomplish these by the same uniform, un- 
erring, immutable laws. For he is a being of 
infinite perfection, and, as he needs not the light 
of experience to direct him to the best means, 
but has, in his own infinite and unerring wis- 
dom, the source from which to guide him in 
his dealings, the plans, the purposes which 
he has once adopted, and the great laws by 
which they are to be accomplished, must ever 
remain, like the being from whom they spring, 
unchangeable, eternal. 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



77 



IV. And here we may be met with the in- 
quiry. Of what use is it to pray, if God never 
changes ? and how can we hope to receive any 
blessings, in answer to prayer, which we should 
not receive without it? In reply to this, I would 
observe, that it is one of his immutable laws, that 
prayer is necessary for the attainment of certain 
blessings ; that it indicates or produces a change 
in our own characters or feelings, which change 
prepares us for the reception of certain blessings, 
which our minds would not otherwise be fitted 
to receive ; and he may then, in perfect consis- 
tency with his immutability, confer these bles- 
sings upon us, which otherwise he would not 
have conferred, Is God changeable, because he 
bestows a plentiful harvest this year upon a man 
who has diligently cultivated his grounds, and 
withholds it from him another year, when he 
has neglected to exert his own powers in this 
way? Is God changeable, because, when he or- 
dains that the end shall follow the use of the ne- 
cessary means, he withholds that end when the 
means are not employed ? We should look upon 
prayer as we do upon the other means which 
are ordained by our Heavenly Father for the ac- 
complishment of moral improvement ; when we 
make use of these means, the blessing will fol- 
low. But how is it when we pray for tempo- 



78 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



ral blessings ? Here the same principle acts in 
the government of God. His design is to pro- 
duce the greatest amount of happiness, and this 
he accomplishes by unvarying laws. Prayer may 
produce in our own minds a state of feeling that 
shall render what we ask for good for us, pro- 
motive of our highest improvement and happi- 
ness ; it may then be bestowed. Without ask- 
ing for it, without prayer, we should not have 
obtained it ; because our minds would not be in 
such a state as to be most benefited by it. We 
are encouraged, then, rather than checked, in 
our prayers, by knowing that God is unchange- 
able. That immutability gives us reason to con- 
fide in him ; assured, that, when we have brought 
our minds to a certain state, if what we ask for 
will be really a blessing to us, it will be bestowed, 
and if it be not truly a blessing, it will be with- 
held. 

V. And what should be the effect of this doc- 
trine upon our hearts? It should lead us to 
cherish more elevated conceptions of God, 
in our hearts to adore him, and to be humble. 
Even in the natural world, whatever bears upon 
it the least marks of change or decay excites 
our admiration and awe. The lofty mountains, 
upon whose fronts centuries of winters have 
spent their inefficient rage, and which stand 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



79 



forth amid all the decaying 1 forms of vegetable 
and animal life, as the unshaken monuments of 
creative power, — the orbs of light, which, from 
the moment when they were called into exist- 
ence, have been pouring abroad into the uni- 
verse their flood of light, — these all excite our 
admiration from their very steadfastness. We turn 
to the moral world, and when we witness a hu- 
man being, a man like ourselves, standing firm 
and unshaken in virtue, with a character supe- 
rior to all temptations, with purposes from which 
no difficulties can turn him aside, with princi- 
ples which no threats of danger nor sneers of 
contempt can overthrow, we feel a higher, a 
more glorious admiration. Turn, then, your 
thoughts to God, before whom, and in compari- 
son with whom, all these things are as nothing, 
who always has been, and always will be, un- 
changeable in his nature, his character, his pur- 
poses. He alone, in the boundless universe, pos- 
sesses fully this glorious attribute. Come before 
him, therefore, with deep humility, and feel 
toward him- the highest veneration. 

Let the unchangeableness of God make us 
steadfast in duty. He is faithful, and the prom- 
ises which he has given will be accomplished. 
Though all other beings may change in their 
feelings towards those who have remained firm 



80 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



in their integrity and piety, he will for ever look 
upon them with approbation. Have you been 
disappointed in the influence which piety would 
exert upon the happiness of your soul ? Have 
you felt sad when you have seen virtue mis- 
represented and traduced, and vice triumphing 
among men, deceiving them, and enjoying all 
the honors of the world ? Have you beheld the 
virtuous and religious overwhelmed with sor- 
row, and sinking under the apparent frowns of 
Heaven, and been led to imagine that God had 
forgotten his promises ? O, remove from your 
mind such an unworthy thought ! The time is 
at hand, when all that now seems dark in the 
ways of Providence shall appear right and just. 
Be not discouraged in your course. Yield not 
to despondency in the duties of the Christian. 
God changes not, and, having loved holiness and 
piety, he will for ever love them. He now re- 
gards, and, through all trials and temptations, 
will continue to regard, with complacency the 
progress of the soul towards himself. Press on, 
then, humble Christian ! The way may be 
rough, and weary may be your course, but faint 
not, and it will lead you to the joy of heaven. 

Again, the immutability of God should pre- 
vent a false and dangerous reliance upon his 
mercy. The unchangeable connection, which 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 81 

now exists between holiness and happiness, will 
and must exist for ever ; and He, who has by the 
laws of the human mind connected woe with a 
deviation from duty, will never dissolve that 
connection. It must, it will, remain in this 
world and in every other world. Vain, then, is 
the sinner's hope, when he clings through life 
to his dearly loved sins, and trusts in the mercy 
of God that they will not be followed by the 
dread consequences which he has annexed to 
sin. How can that soul which you have been 
degrading and ruining, which you have imbued 
with the stains of guilt, and infected with the 
poison of wicked habits, — how can that soul be 
made happy ? How can you expect that the 
mercy of God will free you from all the dread- 
ful results of a sinful and unholy life ? Nothing 
but misery awaits the sinful soul ; and there is 
no way of escape, but the way which Jesus has 
pointed out, the way of repentance. Sin must 
be forsaken, or the soul never can be happy. 
Are you, any of you, continuing in a course of 
irreligion and wickedness, trusting, that, when 
you come to the eternal world, God will accept 
you and make you happy ? Do you place such 
a vague trust in his mercy? O, be assured 
there is no warrant for such a trust ! He will 
not abolish the eternal distinctions between ho- 
6 



82 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



liness and sin, nor will he confer upon the one 
the glorioi^ blessings which are promised only 
to the other. His mercy is unchangeable. It is 
even now manifested in offering you forgiveness 
and happiness, when you renounce your sins, and 
turn to him, and live in obedience to him. De- 
ceive not yourselves with any vain hope of par- 
don while you remain sinners. By the im- 
mutable laws of the Creator, holiness is the only 
source of pure, permanent happiness. 

Lastly. This doctrine of God's immutability 
affords abundant consolation to the afflicted. 
Fear not, little flock, for, if you improve your af- 
flictions, it is your Father's good pleasure to give 
you the kingdom. There was one who passed 
through weariness, and toil, and suffering, to 
his Father's home above. He glorified him on 
the earth, and now himself is glorified with 
that glory which was prepared for him before the 
world was. Outward blessings may be removed ; 
earthly hopes may fade away ; but his benevo- 
lence knows no change. Though you are over- 
whelmed with calamities, he will still be your 
friend. Though you walk through the valley 
of the shadow of death, you need fear no evil ; 
for the consciousness of duty will sustain you, 
while you 'know that he is without variableness 
or shadow of turning. Wait his time, when your 



I 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 



83 



light afflictions shall work for you an exceed- 
ing and eternal weight of glory. The darkness 
of affliction will soon cease ; the dawn of an 
eternal day is at hand. In that promise put 
your trust ; to that joy extend your hopes ; and 
you shall enter into rest. 



SERMON II. 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 

HE DIED FOR ALL, THAT THEY WHICH LIVE SHOULD NOT HENCE- 
FORTH LIVE UNTO THEMSELVES, BUT UNTO HIM WHICH DIED 
1 OR THEM AND ROSE AGAIN. 2 Cor. V. 15. 

The Apostle Paul repeatedly refers us to the 
design of the Saviour's death, and dwells upon 
it as one of the most powerful motives which he 
could present to his converts to turn from the 
service of sin to the obedience of the faith. He 
repeatedly declares to us that the great purpose 
for which our Saviour laid down his life was, 
that we might live, — that we might be redeem- 
ed from all iniquity, and that he might thereby 
bring us to God and reconcile us to him. Men 
had gone astray from their duty and from their 
highest happiness; they had forsaken their 
Creator, and in their worldly wisdom they knew 
not God. They were satisfying themselves with 
the righteousness of the law of outward ser- 
vices, and neglected that internal, spiritual right- 
eousness, that devotedness of the heart to God, 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



85 



which are so essential to the well-being of the 
soul. Many had gone entirely astray from their 
Maker, and had lived in total disregard of their 
connection with him, and the claims which he 
had upon them. Then God took pity upon their 
wretched condition, and laid help upon one who 
was mighty to save. Then he sent his own Son 
into the world, not to condemn the world, but 
that the world through him might be saved. 
But saved from what ? From the woe, merely, 
which is consequent upon a sinful heart ? From 
the punishment, which, by the laws of God, 
must ever attend guilt ? From the worm that 
never dies, — the consuming pangs of a guilty 
conscience ? O, my brethren, if this were all 
from which our Saviour was to deliver us, then 
were that deliverance of small importance ! If 
he were only to take away the pain and suffer- 
ing of the disease which was consuming within, 
without healing the disease itself, then were this 
of little moment. But he came for a higher, 
more glorious purpose than merely to save us 
from the pangs of sin ; he came to deliver us 
from sin itself. I cannot help regarding that 
opinion which ascribes to Jesus only a delivery 
from the punishment of sin, as giving too little 
efficacy to his mission and his death. I believe 
that there are most erroneous impressions pre- 



86 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



vailing upon this point, which it is of vital im- 
portance to the influence of Christianity to re- 
move. I would have it deeply felt, that there 
can be no salvation for the sinner so long as he 
continues in his sins, — that Christ came to save 
men from their sins, — that the most glorious 
purposes of divine benevolence, in the accom- 
plishment of which Christ died upon the cross, 
have reference, not to the outward condition, 
but to the internal character of man, — that the 
atoning sacrifice was made for the purpose of 
drawing men to Jesus, according to his own 
words, — "If I be lifted up, I will draw all 
men unto me ! " O, how dreadful, how ruinous 
the delusion, when men believe that the guilty, 
defiled soul can be happy, without being first 
washed from the stains of guilt, and purified 
through the influence of the truth ! Equally 
dreadful is that delusion which supposes that 
any outward salvation can be of any avail, unless 
there take place an inward salvation from the 
dominion of passion and of sin. O, that we all 
entertained serious views of the atonement which 
Jesus Christ has made, and felt, in its deep reali- 
ty, the duties which result from it ! Let us strive 
to gain such views of it as shall produce the 
best practical effect upon our hearts, and make us 
most earnest to render our calling and election 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



87 



sure. Then shall it be for our good that 
Jesus Christ suffered and died; and the blood 
which he shed shall wash us from our sins, — 
purify us as God is pure. But let it never be 
forgotten, that moral effects can be accomplish- 
ed only by moral means, — that nothing can 
have an effect upon the salvation of man, except 
so far as it first exerts an effect upon his heart and 
character, to purify, to elevate, and save from sin. 

The views which I have now set before you 
I have often stated before. I deem them of vast 
importance, and I think that they are the most 
serious and solemn and heart-stirring truths 
which can result from the death of Jesus. As 
such, I would have you earnestly embrace them, 
and apply them to your hearts and lives. This 
same view, which has now been presented to 
you, is contained in the words of the text. 
To the question which might be asked, Why 
did Christ die ? it gives the plain and solemn re- 
ply, He died for all, that they which live should 
not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto 
Him who died for them and rose again. It is 
my wish to illustrate this duty which is thus 
urged upon us, and to enforce it by presenting 
the claims of the Saviour to our attention and 
obedience. 

We are, in the first place, expressly taught that 



88 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



the design of Christ's death was, to have an ef- 
fect upon man. I do not say that it is to have 
no other effect than this ; but I do say, that I see 
no other effect revealed in Scripture. I do say, 
that, in my view, those truths which have an im- 
mediate bearing upon our duties, and are adapted 
to influence our hearts, those which Jesus Christ 
revealed, are what belong to us, while secret 
things belong unto God ; and that, while we are 
disputing about these secret things which he has 
not chosen to reveal to us, we are in great dan- 
ger of forgetting those all-important truths which 
were given to sanctify and to save mankind ; 
but which can neither sanctify nor save, unless 
they are believed with the heart, and exert an 
unceasing effect in the improvement of the char- 
acter. The testimony of Scripture is very full 
and decisive upon this point ; and of the mul- 
titude of passages which speak of the Saviour's 
death, or of the purpose of his mission, almost 
every one expressly declares that it was to bring 
men to God, and to produce a salutary, saving 
influence upon their hearts. Listen to a few of 
them. "God so loved the world, that he gave 
his only begotten Son,, that whosoever believ- 
eth in him should not perish, but have everlast- 
ing life." Here we see that no one can be bene- 
fited by the mission of Jesus Christ, unless it 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



89 



his first exerted an influence upon his heart, — 
urJess he first believes. " In this was manifest- 
edthe love of God toward us, because that God 
sert his only begotten Son into the world." 
Fo| what purpose ? " That we might live 
thnugh him." "He died that he might recon- 
cilers to God " ; that is, to have an effect upon 
us, 'lot upon God. "If, when we were enemies, 
we 'fere reconciled to God by the death of his 
Son much more, being reconciled, we shall be 
save! by his life." " He gave himself for us, 
that (ie might redeem us from all iniquity, and 
purifi unto himself a peculiar people, zealous 
of god works." " Behold," said John the Bap- 
tist, behold the Lamb of God, which taketh 
awaylhe sin of the world " ; observe, not the 
punis^nent which sinners deserve, but the sin 
itself.|Now we cannot have our sins removed, 
surelylexcept as we become holy ; and no one 
can mke us holy, except by producing a change 
in ourlharacters, motives, feelings, and conduct. 
" He ave himself for our sins." For what 
purposi? " That he might deliver us from this 
presenivil world, according to the will of God." 
" For drist also hath once suffered for sins, the 
just forie unjust, that he might bring us to God." 
All the* passages confirm what is taught us in 
the texlthat Christ came and suffered and died, 



90 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



that he might produce an effect upon us, — tun 
our hearts away from sin, and direct them to 
the great object for which we were creafrd. 
They all show, that, so far as it concerns us to 
know the purposes of God in sending him nto 
the world, they were to have an important bar- 
ing upon our duties, to convince us of our dan- 
ger, and to guide us to heaven. 

Secondly. We come now to examine the par- 
ticular purpose for which our text declares that 
Jesus died, — that we should not hencefort live 
unto ourselves, but unto him who died ov us 
and rose again. That we should not hencforth 
live unto ourselves. And what does this lean ? 
That we should give up all care and concrn for 
our own good ? That we should make o pro- 
vision for the supply of our wants, ad the 
relief of our distresses? That we shoid en- 
deavour to be heedless, as it regards albresent 
blessings ? Surely not. God, who plced us 
here and imposed solemn duties uporus, re- 
quires of us that we take heed to ouipresent 
condition. He permits us to seek afr those 
things which may promote our presenlcomfort 
and happiness j and when we urge eligious 
duties upon men, it is useless, and wse than 
useless, to tell them that they ought I give up 
all regard to their present well-being. Religion 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



91 



does not take men away from the sphere of ac- 
tion in which the providence of God has placed 
them, or render them indifferent as to their out- 
ward condition. It does not seek to make us 
insensible to all around us. We are not, then, 
enjoined by the Apostle to put away from us all 
regard to our present convenience or happiness, 
but to keep these concerns in the subordinate sta- 
tion which they ought to hold. He requires us 
to put away all low selfishness, all regard to such 
personal gratifications as might, in any way, in- 
terfere with the high duties which devolve upon 
us as Christians. The great error among men is, 
that they live too much for themselves alone, — 
for their present personal convenience and com- 
fort. For this they will toil and labor ; to secure 
this, they are willing to pass a great portion of 
life in close attention to business and to the ac- 
quisition of wealth. They look upon this life as 
given to them, not to prepare for another, — for 
they seldom consider it as having any connec- 
tion with another life, — but to secure present 
enjoyment, to make themselves as happy as they 
can. The great check to a holy life, a life de- 
voted to the good of men and to the purposes 
of God, is selfishness. It confines a man's ex- 
ertions within a narrow compass. It checks the 
expansion of his affections. It destroys his gen- 



92 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



erous feelings and desires. It binds up the whole 
soul in a severe bondage. The commands of 
God, the welfare of his fellow -creatures, are of no 
account to the selfish man ; and if he can but pro- 
mote a present convenience, he is willing to re- 
nounce the approbation of conscience, and to sac- 
rifice the good of those around him. Selfishness 
does not always proceed so far as this; still, such 
is its tendency. So far it will carry any one 
who is given up to its influence, and it is a prin- 
ciple, therefore, which requires to be most care- 
fully watched, and instantly and everywhere 
checked. Now when the Christian spirit pre- 
vails in the heart, it will, at once, check these 
selfish feelings. It will lead us not to live unto 
ourselves, but unto Christ, who died and rose 
again for us. And how shall we live unto 
Christ ? By a strict obedience to the commands 
which he has given us. The Christian will re- 
member all that his Master has taught him to 
do, and will be eager and faithful in the perform- 
ance of it. He will watch over every action, 
and inquire whether it would have the approval 
of Him who loved him and died for him. If it 
have not, he will not, for any advantage or 
pleasure it might afford him, perform it. He 
will strictly examine all his own feelings and 
motives, and bring them all to the standard 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



93 



which Jesus established ; and when they do not 
conform to that, he will renounce them. In 
short, he will ever strive, that the kingdom 
which Christ came to establish — a kingdom 
not of this world, but a spiritual kingdom — may- 
rule in his soul. To it he will yield implicit 
obedience. 

Again, we must live unto Christ by devoting 
ourselves to the same cause to which he was de- 
voted, and in which he suffered and died. He la- 
bored not for himself, but for the good of man. No 
sufferer ever turned away disappointed from him. 
No sinner was so depraved as to be beyond the 
reach of his kind compassion. His divine power 
he exerted for the relief of the distressed. His 
divine wisdom he exerted in teaching the sinner 
the error of his ways, and doing all that devoted 
affection could prompt, to win him back to virtue 
and happiness. With an unconquerable zeal and 
love, he went about doing good to the bodies 
and souls of men. That work of benevolence 
he has left to his true followers to carry on. In 
our several stations, and according to our ability, 
would he have us labor in the same great cause 
of human improvement and happiness. And God 
gives us a condition in which his providence has 
placed abundant oj portunities to imitate the be- 
nevolence of Jesus, and make those about us hap- 



94 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



py, by renouncing a selfish regard to our con- 
venience, and manifesting that gentleness and 
affectionate interest in others which Jesus mani- 
fested. We have only to ask ourselves each 
day, In what way can I improve my time and 
talents for the best good of those about me ? 
How can I by my words or deeds make others 
better or happier ? And however narrow our 
sphere of action, if in that sphere we labor to do 
good and promote virtue and happiness, if we 
only do what we can, we are engaged in our Sa- 
viour's cause, and carrying on his work. But if 
you refuse to do this, if you can see the world 
as it is without emotions of sorrow, if you can 
witness the chains of selfishness and sin riveted 
upon human souls without a resolution and an 
effort to free them from their bondage, then I 
fear that you are in this bondage yourselves. 
You yourselves are pursuing the path of world- 
liness. You are not concerned for your own 
salvation ; and you care nothing for the danger 
of others, because you do not feel it. O, awake to 
righteousness ! Live not. I entreat you, to your- 
selves, but to Him who died for you. Live to 
him by devoting yourselves to the cause of 
human welfare, by striving judiciously and pru- 
dently, yet earnestly, and in the spirit of Jesus, 
for your own salvation, and the best good of 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



95 



those around you. Thus are you to live unto 
Jesus, and thus will every sincere follower of him 
seek to show that he has been with Jesus, and 
caught some of that heavenly spirit which ever 
animated his breast. 

And what is there, do you ask, to call you 
to such a duty ? Why must we live to Jesus 
Christ ? Let me refer you to his labors for your 
sake. You know, how, through toiling and 
watching, and perils, and persecution, he pursued 
the great object of human improvement. In all 
the vicissitudes of his life, while surrounded by 
his friends, and sympathizing in their sorrows 
and their joys, or confronting his enemies with 
his mild, yet firm expostulations, he ever had 
in view your good. He labored for it with a 
devoted earnestness of purpose, which can find 
no parallel in the history of human benevolence. 
It was the object dearer to his heart than all 
things else. Amid difficulties which would have 
checked one less devoted and less confident in 
the goodness of his cause, he struggled on, re- 
gardless of opposition, or prepared to meet it. 
With all the energies of his soul, he strove for 
what he knew was the most glorious purpose to 
be accomplished on earth. His days were those 
of unwearied activity in the duty which he had 
undertaken ; his nights were those of prayer 



96 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



and supplication. While others were pursuing 
the path of human glory, his greatest aim was 
to glorify God by promoting the welfare of his 
creatures. While the world were spending all 
their energies for their personal gratification, his 
soul was devoted to, the energies of his mind were 
concentrated upon, the happiness of men. While 
they were heedless of their own good, he taught, 
and toiled, and prayed for them. While they 
treated him with ingratitude, he acted upon that 
sublime principle which he enjoined upon them, 
and returned good for evil. Have you ever de- 
voted your energies for the good of others ? 
Have you labored for them, when they have 
been unmindful of your exertions ? Have you 
sought, with all the devotedness of a parent's 
love, to impart to your children all the blessings 
in your power, to turn them from their errors, 
and teach them the path of happiness ? And 
think you, they should feel that you have no 
claims upon them ? If the love of a parent 
demands some return of gratitude and obedience 
from his children, if the devotedness of an earth- 
ly benefactor calls for some feelings of earnest 
cooperation on the part of those for whom he 
labors, then do the toils and labors of the Sa- 
viour have the strongest claim upon us. And 
what has he done for us ? What has been the 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 97. 

result of these labors ? He has given us a 
treasure, without which this earth appears but a 
gloomy prison-house, and life an unwished-for 
burden. He has given us that which will cheer 
the darkest hours of sorrow, and pour true peace 
and confidence into the troubled heart. He has 
shed a ray over the dark passages of Providence, 
which shows order and design amid apparent 
confusion. He has pointed out the way by which 
the soul oppressed with woe and guilt may re- 
turn to peace and innocence. He has diffused the 
brightness of a Father's presence over the gloomy 
and solitary walks of life. He has given the 
soul a power over all outward things, to check 
their influence and rise superior to surrounding 
desolation. He has placed a light beyond the 
tomb, and shown that the valley of death is to 
the righteous the entrance on a world of glory and 
unending bliss. Is there a good to be compared 
with that which Jesus has accomplished ? Has 
such a benefactor no claims upon your attention 
and your love ? — But he not only labored for our 
good. He not only accomplished more for hu- 
man happiness than had ever been done before. 
Had his claims ended here, you could not, while 
you have the least feeling of gratitude, reject 
them. You have seen him toiling through life 
in the glorious cause of redeeming man from 
7 



.98 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



sin and wretchedness ; — and how does that life 
terminate ? Like the prophet Elijah, is he re- 
moved, in the midst of his duties, to heaven ? Is 
he saved the pangs of death ? O, a darker fate 
is near ! Behold him seized by the hands of 
hirelings, at the bidding of his revengeful coun- 
trymen, betrayed for accursed gain, by one who 
had been admitted to his private intercourse. 
He is hurried in the darkness of midnight to the 
tribunal of his foes, as if they were ashamed 
that so black a crime should be perpetrated in 
the light of day. He is condemned upon the 
evidence of hired, perjured men. Behold him 
hurried thence to execution. He sinks in agony 
and weakness beneath the cross. He arrives at 
the mount of Calvary. Here, stretched in agony, 
he endures the scoffs and ridicule of his relent- 
less enemies. The anguish of lingering death 
comes over him, and with a prayer for the for- 
giveness of his enemies on his lips, and the re- 
membrance of his widowed mother at his heart, 
he dies. The best, the purest being that ever 
lived on earth dies upon the cross. O, where 
is your feeling for injured innocence, where 
your sympathy for suffering and undaunted vir- 
tue, where your admiration for fortitude, where 
your gratitude for a love stronger than death, if 
you can deny, if you can resist, the claims of 



LIVING TO CHRIST. 



99 



the Saviour ? Is there human feeling in your 
hearts, and is it not called forth by such a spec- 
tacle ? Has the blood of Calvary no voice to 
speak to your hearts ? Have you tears for the 
woes of your fellow-men, and none for the suf- 
fering Son of God ? Have you gratitude for 
human love, and none for a love so deep, so 
strong, so boundless ? O, let not the voice of 
God, through Jesus, call upon you in vain ! Let 
us live henceforth not unto ourselves, but unto 
Him who died for us and rose again. 



SERMON III. 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 

OUT OF THE ABUNDANCE OF THE HEART THE MOUTH SPEAK- 

eth. — Luke vi. 45. 

Generally speakfng, that subject, or that 
class of subjects, which lies nearest to a man's 
heart, will form a frequent topic of his conver- 
sation. The man of business will be fond of 
talking about the state of trade, the commercial 
prospects of this or that community or country. 
He will be inquiring into the causes of the fluc- 
tuations in business, and will converse upon the 
various events which may affect this or that 
man's prosperity. The farmer will speak of the 
prospects of a good or bad harvest, and those 
changes of weather which affect his crops. If 
he takes most interest in the abundance of the 
productions of the earth, he will speak with 
most interest upon agriculture. The literary 
man, if he be much interested in his pursuits, 
will delight to talk of the merits of different 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



101 



authors, discuss with pleasure the excellencies 
or defects of style, the strength of argument, 
the beauty of illustration, in the books which 
he has perused. The seaman will speak most 
frequently of the perils of the ocean, of the 
manners and habits of the foreign nations whom 
he has visited ; and as he dwells upon such 
themes, the recollection of past scenes and al- 
most forgotten events will spring up vividly in 
his mind, and impart a deeper interest to his nar- 
rations. Thus it is with all classes of men. Ac- 
cording to a person's employments and habits of 
life will be his conversation, and he will dwell 
with most pleasure upon those subjects which 
have presented themselves the most frequently 
to his thoughts. It is a wise appointment of 
Providence, that we should thus take an interest 
in what occupies the greater portion of our lives ; 
nor does our religion forbid such an interest, 
when it does not interfere with, or take the 
place of, subjects of much greater importance to 
every one. But not only do our regular employ- 
ments give a decided character to our conversa- 
tion ; the state of our hearts, that is, of our affec- 
tions and feelings, will exert a great influence 
upon what we say. There are some persons 
who appear to take a very great interest in the 
private affairs of others, and consequently, you 



102 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



will frequently find them conversing upon the 
conduct or habits of those around them, and 
spreading abroad idle tales to their disadvantage ; 
perhaps without intention of doing injury, yet 
actually exciting prejudice against others, and 
giving wrong impressions with regard to their 
actions or opinions. Such persons appear to 
take the greatest delight, when they hear any 
new thing about their neighbours, and rejoice in 
this supply to their topics of conversation. De- 
prive them of such topics, and they would have 
nothing to say. We cannot speak with commen- 
dation of those whose chief conversation is about 
the faults and follies of their neighbours. The 
custom, universal though it may be, proves that 
the heart is engaged upon subjects which are 
wholly unworthy of one who aspires to the 
happiness which Christ has revealed. 

I have spoken of several cases in which trains 
of thought and feeling exert an influence upon 
the conversation. Perhaps, however, there may 
be exceptions to this general rule, and it is to 
one of these that it is my intention, at present, to 
call your attention ; I mean to the importance 
and duty of religious conversation. There may 
be, and I believe there are, persons, who feel 
deeply upon religion, who know that their whole 
happiness depends upon it, who make it their 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



103 



unceasing endeavour to do the will of God, who 
yet seldom speak to others of those glorious truths 
from which they derive all their spiritual strength. 
From diffidence, from humility, from a fear of 
being looked upon as seeking the praise of men 
or acting a hypocritical part, they abstain in their 
conversation from introducing subjects which 
are to the Christian the most interesting upon 
which the mind can dwell. It may be useful 
to inquire into the causes which have prevented 
those who are truly interested in religion from 
making the truths of that religion the subjects 
of their conversation. Let us each pursue this 
inquiry for ourselves. Let us learn the motives 
by which we have been actuated in abstaining 
from this duty of religious conversation ; and if 
they are unworthy motives, then let us not hes- 
itate to free ourselves from their power ; but if 
they are such as conscience and religion approve, 
let us then consider whether there are not still 
higher and stronger motives which should engage 
us in the performance of this duty, even in op- 
position to these j and if we find that there are 
these higher and stronger motives, a consistent 
regard to the claims of our religion, a supreme 
reference to duty, will not permit us to neglect 
it. I propose to set before you the duty, dan- 
gers, and advantages of religious conversation. 



104 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



I. The duty and propriety of religious con- 
versation will plainly appear to any one who 
considers the nature, condition, and prospects of 
man. What are we ? Are we not children of 
God, dependent upon him for all we enjoy, and 
bound to him by every motive of gratitude, in- 
terest, and affection ? We are feeble beings, re- 
quiring all the strength which mutual sympa- 
thy can give to those who are engaged in the 
same work. Why are we placed here ? Is it 
not that we may, by a course of discipline and 
trial, have our religious characters formed and 
improved ? What are we looking forward to ? Is 
it not to the time, which we know must very 
soon come, when we shall be called away from 
this world into the world of spirits, — when this 
corruptible shall put on incorruption, and this 
mortal immortality, and we shall all be judged 
for the deeds done in the body ? Is it not, then, 
proper for us, fellow-travellers as we are through 
this scene of probation, to hold intercourse with 
each other upon these solemn and deeply inter- 
esting truths ? If these truths alone can impart 
peace to the mind overwhelmed with present 
calamity, can give strength, courage, and energy 
amid the innumerable temptations of the world, 
shall we not, does not reason teach us that we 
ought to, animate our own hearts, and cheer and 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



105 



strengthen the hearts of others, by speaking of 
the glorious truths of our holy religion ? We are 
a band of brethren at a distance from our father's 
house, but journeying rapidly onward to him; 
we are travelling through the varied scenes of 
life, sometimes surrounded by all that can cheer 
and make us happy, at other times filled with 
gloomy apprehensions on account of the evils 
which befall us ; — shall we not encourage and 
comfort ourselves upon the way, by speaking to 
each other of the glory and happiness of that 
place of peace which we are seeking, of the 
goodness of our Heavenly Father, his forbear- 
ance and long-suffering, his mercy and love, 
which, while we were yet sinners, sent his Son 
to turn our feet into the paths of peace and to 
redeem us from all iniquity ? What would be our 
feeling, were we to meet a band of travellers 
who. had turned toward their native land, and 
were pressing forward with eagerness to arrive 
at the peace of home, should we know that 
they relieved the tediousness and sadness of 
their journey by social intercourse, yet never 
spoke to each other of the home which they 
were seeking, of the means of making them- 
selves happy in the land where they hoped to 
pass many long years ? Should we not think 
that they were strangely neglectful of what they 



106 RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



should have regarded as matters of the deepest 
interest ? How much more strange, then, that 
we should so seldom hold sweet counsel together 
upon the blessings we enjoy, and the hopes we 
have as Christians, upon our connection with 
God, and the purposes of his various dealings 
with us ! We know that such communion would 
not only cheer us on our way, but would effec- 
tually strengthen and animate us, make us press 
forward with a greater zeal, and save us from 
wandering into the devious paths of error. Shall 
we dwell with feeling and animation upon a pa- 
triot's name, and recite his praises, and talk of 
the deeds which he has performed, — and shall 
our lips never utter the name of the Most High, 
whose kindness fails not, and who is ever be- 
stowing upon his creatures the proofs of his 
remembrance ? Shall our hearts never feel, nor 
our lips express, the gratitude we owe to Him in 
whom we live, and who never forsakes those who 
put their trust in him ? In the domestic circle, 
where all the kind affections of our nature are 
called forth, and where such favorable opportu- 
nities offer for the development of the best feel- 
ings, and for the diffusion of the most salutary 
truths of religion, shall the thoughts never be 
directed to the great Source of good ? Shall the 
high destiny which awaits those who serve him 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



107 



be the only subject upon which the heart warms 
not, and the lips do not become eloquent ? When 
we remember the influence which each one of 
us is capable of exerting upon others, and that 
the effects which may result from exerting such 
an influence are of the purest kind, we cannot 
doubt that the duty of leading the minds of 
others to religion, by often making it the sub- 
ject of our social conversation, is most imperi- 
ous. 

II. There are, however, dangers to be appre- 
hended from what is often called religious con- 
versation, which are of the most serious nature. 
A person may even persuade himself that he is 
engaging in religious conversation, while, in fact, 
he is doing vast injury to himself, and perhaps, 
destroying the influence of religion over the 
hearts of others. We are next to consider, there- 
fore, some of these dangers. 

The first danger which I would mention as 
resulting from religious conversation is, that it 
may create or cherish a spirit of ostentation, a 
spirit the most to be abhorred in reference to 
religion. There has been implanted within us 
a regard to the opinion of others, which is un- 
doubtedly of great use in accomplishing the 
purposes of our present existence. No one lives, 
who does not pride himself upon the possession 



108 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



of some qualities either of body or of mind, 
and endeavour, by means of these, to render 
himself commendable in the sight of others. 
And when this feeling is kept within proper 
bounds, it is salutary and proper; for there is 
no original principle of our nature which is in 
itself sinful, or deserving of reprobation. But 
too often this regard to the opinion of others 
rises above all other motives, and in its mighty 
power sways the soul. It takes the place of 
feelings which ought to act with an absolute 
influence over the human mind. It comes in 
to weaken the power of those truths which have 
been revealed from God for the sanctification 
and salvation of man. And the more insidious 
.the disguise it wears, the more strongly will 
it operate to keep the soul under its full influ- 
ence, and to retard its upward progress in ho- 
liness. Now observation teaches us, that, by 
conversing upon religious subjects, such a spirit 
of ostentation is often much cherished. Every 
one, wishing the good opinion of those around 
him, and knowing that the truly religious and 
conscientious man does obtain the respect of 
the world, is very much tempted to seek such 
a reputation, by making a display of his own 
religious excellencies, by speaking of his own 
piety, or proclaiming upon the house-top the 
deeds of his own benevolence. Whenever this 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



109 



is the motive which leads any one to engage in 
religious conversation, the good which such a 
person may possibly do to others will be more 
than counterbalanced by the certain evil which 
will result to himself. Will not observation 
force upon our minds the unwelcome conclusion, 
that too often the religious conversation which 
we hear does spring from such a motive, and 
not from a heart overflowing with gratitude and 
piety, and desirous of enkindling in the hearts 
of others the pure love of God and the firm pur- 
pose of duty ? Does an examination of our own 
hearts teach us, my brethren, that we have been 
actuated by such motives, when we have spoken 
of the goodness of God and have declared our 
trust in his mercy, or have been leading the 
thoughts of others to the riches of his grace in 
the redemption of the world? If, indeed, our 
hearts have been touched by the exhibition of 
divine truth, and we have truly felt how good 
is God, then shall we escape from this danger. 
We must have a deep sense of the infinite im 
portance of religion, that, for ourselves and for 
others, it is more essential to have the Christian 
temper, and to be guided by Christian motives, 
than to have all other possessions. We must 
sincerely wish the good of others, — more, much 
more, than our own aggrandizement or reputa- 



110 RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



tion. If our hearts are imbued with Christian 
benevolence, and we have learned how valuable, 
to support, to comfort, to sanctify, are the truths 
of the Christian religion, then shall we speak of 
them with power, and be in little danger of in- 
troducing the spirit of ostentation into the per- 
formance of so important a duty. 

Another dailger to which we are exposed in 
religious conversation is the introduction of a 
spirit of bigotry and censoriousness. There ap- 
pear to be many persons who have not accus- 
tomed themselves to converse about abstract du- 
ties or truths, but must be continually speaking 
of the characters of those around them. The 
characters and conduct of others form the great 
subject upon which their thoughts and their 
lips are employed. And they will persuade them- 
selves that they are conversing upon religion, 
when they are talking about the characters of 
others, denouncing this one and extolling that. 
There is often as much scandal in the conver- 
sation of those who are professedly holding 
intercourse with each other upon the highest 
subjects on which the mind of man can dwell, 
as among the more volatile votaries of fashion ; 
and I am not prepared to say, that it is not at 
least as criminal to detract from each others' re- 
ligious standing as it is to spread abroad the 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



Ill 



petty tales and foolish reports which the idle 
are framing about their neighbours. It would 
surely seem, that those to whom is held out so 
high a prize as the joys of heaven, and who feel 
the importance of striving for that blessed inher- 
itance which fadeth not away, should know 
that life is too short to be wasted in discussing 
the characters of others, and estimating their re- 
ligious progress ; that every energy of the soul 
ought to be engaged in establishing in their own 
hearts and diffusing abroad the practical princi- 
ples of religion. Say not, that, as you can best 
be guided by example, it is well for you to bring 
up the characters of others, and observe their 
deficiencies, and spy out their errors or follies. 
Examine yourselves : look into your own hearts ; 
and be assured that you can perform every duty 
which you owe to God and to your fellow-men, 
without falling into the sin of detraction. It is 
by no means, in any thing, least of all in reli- 
gion, necessary to do evil that good may come. 
Let not, then, the habit be formed of conjecturing 
in regard to each others' motives, and question- 
ing each others' good intentions. Be not ac- 
customed to indulge in a class of sins of so 
serious and injurious a nature, that you may 
bear the reputation of being a religious man ; 
for, be assured, that whatever reputation is 



112 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



gained by speaking ill of others, and thus en- 
deavouring to heighten the contrast between your 
own character and theirs, is worthless indeed. 

These dangers, of which I have spoken, arise 
not so much from making religion the subject 
of our conversation, — for that is adapted only to 
produce greater humility and a more diffusive 
benevolence, — as from an unrestrained self-seek- 
ing, taking advantage of the occasions for its 
indulgence, and hiding itself under the disguise 
of an ardent zeal for the cause of truth and 
holiness. Let us watch the emotions of our 
hearts with strictest vigilance. Let us guard 
with the utmost care against the entrance of such 
feelings as have been described ; for they will 
render us less able to do good to others, and will 
effectually check our own advancement in the 
Christian course. 

III. We are to speak, thirdly, of the advanta- 
ges of frequent religious conversation. If we can 
avoid the dangers which have been mentioned, 
we may derive the greatest benefit from holding 
intercourse with each other upon truths in which 
we all have an equal interest, and which we are 
all too liable to neglect. We are made capable 
of acting upon each other, of leading each oth- 
ers' thoughts to the subject which interests our- 
selves, and of promoting a deep interest in it 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 113 

among those around us. The solitary efforts of 
individuals will never do so much, as when they 
endeavour to engage others in the cause in which 
they are concerned. Who is not conscious, that, 
even where he is interested in any benevolent 
project, his zeal is increased, and his efforts are 
redoubled, when he knows that others are en- 
gaged in the same cause, and when he hears 
them speaking of the means and motives for 
promoting it ? Let us take, for a familiar exam- 
ple, the cause of patriotism. Who does not know 
and feel, that his love of country is increased, 
that his gratitude for the labors and sufferings of 
those men by whom the freedom of his country 
was achieved is rendered more strong and sin- 
cere, when he hears these subjects often made 
the theme of conversation ? Who is not led to 
greater devotion to his country's service, when 
he often hears such devotion commended, and 
the high motives which should lead to it point- 
ed out and enforced ? And is it not in like man- 
ner true, that the heart will be rendered more 
grateful to God, and that a sense of dependence 
will be increased, by often hearing these subjects 
dwelt upon, by perceiving that others acknowl- 
edge their justice and endeavour to cherish them ? 
Why is it that you statedly assemble in the 
house of God, and listen to the exhortations to 
8 



114 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



holiness and to the exhibitions of divine truth 
which are there made to you ? Is it that you 
expect to hear any new motives for obedience to 
God's will ? Is it that you may be made acquaint- 
ed with your duties ? You have in the Scrip- 
tures all those truths which can influence you. 
Your own conscience, enlightened by the Scrip- 
tures, will teach you what you must do. Is it 
that the motives which are set before you in the 
gospel are not of sufficient power to have an in- 
fluence over your hearts ? If ye hear not Moses 
and the prophets, if you listen not to the words 
of Jesus and his disciples, you would not hear 
though one arose from the dead to call you to 
repentance. Is there not a God and a Saviour, 
although you may never meet to listen to what 
has been revealed concerning them ? Is there not 
a future world, with its solemn retributions, al- 
though you may not hear from the pulpit the 
blessed invitations of mercy calling you to holi- 
ness, or the warning voice speaking of the mise- 
ry of disobedience and sin ? All these truths, all 
these motives, remain ever the same ; but you 
come that you may feel them more. You are 
apt to forget them, to neglect them, amid the 
cares and occupations of the world. Public re- 
ligious instruction is but a more formal mode 
of religious conversation, and it is an instru- 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



115 



merit of no little influence in promoting the 
practice of piety, and in leading men to a great 
regard for religion, as may be perceived at once, 
by those who will visit a place where the peo- 
ple do not statedly assemble for the worship 
of God. And while you acknowledge that here 
the mind both of speaker and hearer must be 
more impressed with the truths which are so re- 
peatedly enforced, will you not also acknowledge 
that God's blessing will accompany the sincere 
efforts of his children to promote piety in their 
own hearts and around them by the more famil- 
iar mode of religious conversation ? Believe me, 
you will not perform this duty aright without 
enkindling in your own soul a purer love to God, 
a more zealous imitation of the Saviour, without 
awakening in the minds of others an increased 
zeal and interest in the inestimable riches of the 
gospel. You will learn, and you will teach 
others, to connect religious ideas and feelings 
with every event in life, with our enjoyments, 
our trials, and our temptations ; and in heaven 
you may meet again those whom you have led 
to a knowledge of the truth, and there engage 
again in the blessed employment of animating 
each others' piety, and enlarging each others' 
knowledge, by conversing again upon the won- 
ders of divine love. 



SERMON IV. 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 

NEITHER PRAY I FOR THESE ALONE, BUT FOR THEM ALSO WHICH 
SHALL BELIEVE ON ME THROUGH THEIR WORD, THAT THEY 
ALL MAY BE ONE ) AS THOU, FATHER, ART IN ME, AND I IN 
THEE, THAT THEY ALSO MAY BE ONE IN US : THAT THE WORLD 
MAY BELIEVE THAT THOU HAST SENT ME. — John XVli. 20, 21. 

No name stands higher on the list of Christian 
philanthropists than the name of John Howard. 
In the discharge of his duties as high sheriff of 
one of the counties of England, he became ac- 
quainted with the abuses which were practised 
in the common jails. And so strongly were his 
sympathies excited in behalf of the ill treated 
prisoners, that he ever after made it the business 
of his life to mitigate their sufferings and re- 
dress their wrongs. In the prosecution of his 
benevolent enterprise, he traversed foreign coun- 
tries, exposed himself to the suspicious jealousy 
of tyrants, descended into dungeons where the 
light of day had never penetrated, plunged into 
prisons where reckless guilt and fierce despair 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



117 



and maniac madness had given men the ferocity 
of wild beasts, visited lazarettos where the most 
loathsome and contagious diseases were extend- 
ing their ravages, sought out and laid open 
abuses and miseries, to the enormity of which 
the world was a stranger, and, after an unparal- 
leled series of self-denying labors, at last fell a 
sacrifice to the malignity of a disease which he 
had contracted in his benevolent exertions. John 
Howard was a Calvinist. 

You have heard, perhaps, of Elizabeth Frye. 
In a like spirit of Christian benevolence, she in- 
terested herself in the condition of the female 
convicts in Newgate, a celebrated English pris- 
on. These convicts were sunk in the lowest 
depths of depravity. Vice in its most hideous 
and disgusting forms was shamelessly practised 
among them, and, from time to time, new victims 
were thrust in among this degraded multitude, 
to become more degraded, and to learn to look 
upon society with the hatred of demons. She 
had learned something of their sad state, and 
she determined to see what Christian love and 
Christian truth could do among these degraded 
beings. When she expressed to the officers of 
the prison her determination to enter among 
them, they used every argument to dissuade her, 
for they believed that she must fall a victim to 



118 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



their fury. Undismayed by their representations, 
she went with a Bible in her hands, and suc- 
ceeded, after the most laborious exertions, in sub- 
duing their ferocity, and in checking their profan- 
ity. Into many hearts among that hopeless and 
degraded mob did she send the sweet influence 
of Christian truth, and by all was she welcomed 
as a faithful friend, so that, as it has been beau- 
tifully expressed, she turned that den of thieves 
into a house of prayer. Elizabeth Frye was a 
Quaker. 

You have heard of Oberlin, the devoted pastor 
of Walbach, who consecrated himself to the 
work of doing good among the ignorant and 
degraded population who dwell in the dreariest 
regions of the Alps. Over an extensive region 
of rocks and snows, amid an outward desolation 
which was equalled only by the moral desolation 
of the souls of the wretched inhabitants, did he 
labor with unwearied diligence, calmly and per- 
se veringly bearing with the ignorance and pre- 
judice of his people, willing to meet all dangers 
and suffering, so that he might win them to 
Christ. So devoted were his labors, that his 
name has become a praise wherever the Chris- 
tian religion is known. Oberlin, though embrac- 
ing some Calvinistic doctrines, was a decided 
Restorationist. 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



119 



Who has not heard of the pure-minded, the 
humble, the devoted Cheverus, — who for so 
many years carried the precious influence of his 
own pure example among the poor and suffering 
and degraded Irish of the city of Boston, — who 
forsook the society of t he polished and highly 
educated, that he might bear the consolation of 
his sympathy and his faith to the crowded alleys 
and unwholesome cellars where the poor of his 
flock might be found, — whose memory is cher- 
ished with a strong attachment, such as mere 
intellectual greatness never could give, — who 
extorted from even the bitterest enemies of his 
faith the sincerest homage and respect ? Chev- 
erus was a Catholic. 

Two young men, in a distant country in Eu- 
rope, heard of the low moral condition of the 
West Indian slaves, of their destitution of all 
religious instruction. They thought much of 
their own privileges, and, as they dwelt upon 
the sad spiritual condition of these slaves, their 
hearts burned within them to do something for 
their salvation. At length they left kindred, 
home, and country, and went among these de- 
graded beings, declaring, that, if they could get 
access to them in no other way, they would sell 
themselves as slaves, and share all their sorrows, 
if they might only preach to them the unsearch- 



120 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



able riches of Christ. These young men were 
Moravians. 

I might draw innumerable examples, from all 
the various denominations of Christians, of per- 
sons, not, perhaps, so distinguished as were 
these, but in whose hearts the true spirit of 
Jesus dwelt. In the abode of poverty, in the 
chamber of wasting disease, and on the bed of 
death, among the scenes of this world's busy 
occupation, and in the lowliness of humble re- 
tirement, among the cultivated nations of Chris- 
tendom, among the newly converted Islanders, 
wherever the sun of righteousness has risen, we 
find the same spirit of humble, self-denying 
piety, of pure, disinterested benevolence, show- 
ing that its possessors have been with Jesus and 
learned of him. These things teach us a glori- 
ous truth ; that all the Christian virtue and piety 
in the world are not confined within the limits 
of any single denomination, but that all receive 
enough of truth to sanctify the soul. They lift 
us above the petty jarrings and contentions of 
opposing sects, and teach us to extend the hand 
of Christian fellowship beyond the limits of our 
own party. They present a broad and sufficient 
ground for that Christian union, so ardently de- 
sired by every good man, so long sought after in 
vain. True piety, my friends, is the same wher- 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



121 



ever you find it. There is no controversy about 
it among men. All know what the Christian 
spirit and the Christian character are. Let us 
be satisfied with the possession of these. Let 
us be willing to acknowledge, that, where these 
are found, there is a Christian brother. He may 
differ from us in many points of doctrine. He 
may interpret Scripture differently from our- 
selves. He may reject what we hold as truth, 
or receive what we deem error. But if he have 
the spirit of Christ, Christ will own him as his, 
and let us acknowledge him too. Here is the 
broad ground upon which Christians must meet 
at last, if they would fulfil the Saviour's earnest 
entreaty. I believe that we are even now, with 
all our divisions, making some approaches toward 
it, and that we shall find no other ground upon 
which we can reasonably hope for such a union. 
And- why should we want any other ? Do you 
not think that John, and James, and Paul, if 
they were upon earth, would have acknowledged 
all those whom I have named, and thousands of 
others, who, in their respective spheres, have 
served God and wrought righteousness, as fellow- 
laborers with themselves in the great cause of 
human improvement and happiness? And shall 
we reject those whom they would have received ? 
Men have supposed that this Christian union 



122 CHRISTIAN UNION. 

could be the result only of an agreement in doc- 
trine ; and that we must first bring all men to 
the acknowledgment of the same creed, before 
we could hope to see them one in Christ. Now, 
however highly each one of us may value his 
own peculiar religious opinions, and however 
earnestly he may desire that others should adopt 
them, still it will be found quite impracticable 
to bring about a uniformity of opinion in the 
Christian world. I am sure that we are not war- 
ranted by the history of the past to expect such a 
result. There is such a diversity in men's mental 
constitution and habits, that it is unreasonable to 
expect them to arrive at precisely the same con- 
clusions on all points of religious doctrine. Each 
person's peculiar temperament and previous in- 
tellectual habits will give a hue to his doctrinal 
opinions, and insensibly bias him in his examin- 
ation of the word of God. Then, too, it must 
be considered how strong and how various are 
the influences which we receive from early edu- 
cation, how insensibly we imbibe from our pa- 
rents and teachers opinions and prejudices from 
which we cannot hope entirely to escape. So that 
we may reasonably expect that each separate 
community of Christians will continue to hold 
the same opinions, substantially, which they 
have held ; or, at any rate, that any new views, 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



123 



which some of them may attain, will be modi- 
fied by those which they have previously held. 
And beside all this, if we consider for a moment 
what is the character of that book from which 
all profess to derive their faith, we shall not be 
surprised at their disagreement in sentiment, but 
should rather be astonished if they did all agree 
touching its interpretation. Here is a book com- 
posed of a series of writings extending through 
a period of fifteen hundred years, written in lan- 
guages which are no longer spoken by any peo- 
ple, written with special reference to the condi- 
tion and wants of those to whom each portion 
was especially addressed, consisting of narrative, 
devotional poetry, argument, exhortation. Now 
let any number of intelligent men, having the 
same intellectual culture, and the same biases 
from education, sit down to the study of this 
collection of writings, and it would be strange 
if they drew precisely the same conclusions, and 
arrived at precisely the same results. Certain 
leading and prominent truths they would all, 
doubtless, find there ; but a perfect uniformity 
who could expect ? Now, if we recollect that they 
who come to the Sacred Scriptures come with 
such different mental habits, with such strong 
and opposite prejudices, with such decided biases 
toward different systems of doctrine, we should 



124 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



deem it wonderful indeed if they should agree 
in their interpretation of these writings. These 
things considered, it is unreasonable to expect a 
uniformity in religious opinions, and it is unrea- 
sonable to make such an impracticable unifor- 
mity the ground of Christian union. 

But some will say, " We hold certain doctrines 
which we deem essential doctrines of Christian- 
ity. If any man rejects these, we cannot re- 
cognize him as a Christian brother. However 
we may respect his character, or believe that he 
is actuated by good motives, we can hold no 
Christian fellowship with him." Now, in answer 
to this, I say, that I know of no right which 
any man has to set up his own views and opin- 
ions, and call them essential for all to believe in 
order to be Christians. When we look at the 
New Testament, we do not find such and such 
doctrines laid down as essential. One doctrine, 
and but one, do I there find declared to be essen- 
tial, — that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. 
This, so far as doctrines go, I find to be the test 
of discipleship, and the acknowledgment of this 
admitted a person to the enjoyment of Christian 
privileges. The Apostle Peter made this confes- 
sion, and received a blessing from his Master. 
The Ethiopian officer made it, and was baptized 
as a disciple of Jesus. If any man sincerely ac- 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



125 



knowledge this, he will unhesitatingly receive 
whatever he believes Jesus to have taught. He 
will not go to other men to learn the mind of 
Christ. He will suffer none to come between the 
Great Teacher and his own soul. When a man 
acknowledges Jesus as the Son of God, and joy- 
fully submits to his guidance, and when he shows 
by his life that he seeks to follow Jesus, and im- 
bibe his spirit, and obey his commands, I ask not 
to what denomination he belongs. I am willing 
to welcome him as a Christian brother, and I be- 
lieve that he will be acknowledged as such by 
Jesus. Do you ask, then, for the essentials of 
Christianity ? Whatever you believe that Jesus 
taught, and whatever you find necessary to the 
cultivation of the Christian spirit, that to you is 
an essential of Christianity. Each one must de- 
cide this point for himself, and not for another. 

Is it, then, of no consequence what a man be- 
lieves ? Far from it. For truth must need ex- 
ert a happier influence upon all minds than error 
can. I would not undervalue my own views of 
truth. 1 think them better adapted than any 
other views to reach the heart. But however I 
may speculate, facts teach me that the Christian 
spirit and the Christian character may be attained 
without my peculiar views, or the peculiar views 
of any one denomination. While, then, I would 
search most diligently for the truth as it is in 



126 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



Jesus, and endeavour to free my mind from ev- 
ery particle of error, let me not impose my faith 
upon other men as necessary to their acceptance, 
but leave to every one the right to decide for 
himself. Let me acknowledge, that whoever in 
his heart receives Jesus as the Christ, the Son of 
the living God, and labors to bring himself into 
conformity to his character, is a Christian. This 
is the true ground of Christian union ; and until 
Christians are willing to assume this ground, we 
shall witness constant dissensions, and the ear- 
nest prayer of Jesus, in the text, will remain un- 
fulfilled. 

And shall not Christians feel the force of those 
motives which may be urged to lead them to 
this unity of the spirit in the bond of peace ? 
When we know how earnestly our Saviour de- 
sired that it might exist among his disciples, can 
we refuse to fulfil, so far as in us lies, this be- 
nevolent desire ? f Can we resist his touching 
appeal to our hearts ? If we would ourselves 
grow in grace, we shall cultivate this spirit ; for 
bigotry has done more than any thing else to 
drive out the spirit of Christ from the hearts of 
his disciples. So long as we cherish uncharita- 
ble feelings toward others, we can hardly help 
exulting in our own superior excellence and ho- 
liness, and are thus harbouring a spirit utterly at 
variance with that which our Master enjoined. 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 127 

Do we wish for the prevalence of our Master's re- 
ligion ? Then must we cherish this spirit of love 
to our brethren. Our Saviour relied quite as much 
upon this for the prevalence of his truth, as upon 
argument and persuasion. He prayed for' this 
union, as the great means of bringing men to 
value his religion ; — " that the world may know 
that thou hast sent me." These dissensions have 
been among the greatest obstacles to the recep- 
tion of Christianity. "Agree among yourselves 
before you ask us to become religious," is the 
reply which many in their hearts make to the 
voice of Christian exhortation. A false excuse, 
indeed ; since religion is none the less important, 
on account of the dissension of those who profess 
to honor the Saviour ; yet an excuse which men 
will continue to make while they see sect ar- 
rayed against sect in all the bitterness of enmity. 
" But we can do nothing," you say, " to bring 
about this happy union." Do nothing ? You can 
do much. You can put away from your hearts all 
bigotry and intolerance ; and wherever you see 
the Christian spirit, you can acknowledge there 
is one whom Christ receives and loves. You 
can show by a holy life that you have been with 
Jesus ; and thus induce others to acknowledge, 
that, even if you be in error, you have the spirit 
of Christ. 



SERMON V. 



REGENERATION. 

THEREFORE, IF ANY MAN BE IN CHRIST, HE IS A NEW CREATURE. 

2 Cor. v. 17. 

This is but one of many passages in the New 
Testament which teach the necessity of regen- 
eration, or imply, that, in order for a man to be a 
Christian, a great and radical change must take 
place in the soul. There can be no question 
that the apostles felt that such a change was 
necessary, for it had taken place in their own 
souls ; and they seem continually to be following 
their Master's example, and urging the necessity 
of it upon others. Those who are Christians are 
spoken of as being born again ; as having enter- 
ed upon a new life ; as living in a new world. 
They have passed from death to life. They 
have risen with Christ. The introduction of 
Christianity is spoken of as a new creation, the 
author and founder of which is Jesus Christ. 
And where this religion is received into the soul, 



REGENERATION. 129 

old things pass away, and all things become new. 
The convert is said to be crucified, dead to this 
world, and alive to God and Christ. These ex- 
pressions and many others, which are too famil- 
iar to need to be enumerated, abound in the 
Scriptures, so as to make this doctrine a promi- 
nent one in Christianity. 

It is my wish simply to take notice, at this 
time, of two errors, into which I think that many 
have fallen in relation to regeneration, and then 
to urge upon your attention the duties which 
are involved in these declarations of Scripture. 

There are many persons who look upon re- 
generation as a change of human nature, the in- 
troduction of some new powers or faculties, and 
the rooting out of some of its original principles. 
If this were so, we could preach regeneration 
only as an abstract doctrine, and it would be use- 
less to set it forth as a duty. All our endeavours 
to impress upon the minds of others the impor- 
tance of the Christian graces would be useless ; 
our preaching would be vain, and your efforts 
would be vain. For it would be impossible for 
us, by our own power, to change nature, to give 
any new faculty, or to take away any one's prin- 
ciples ; and it would be our only reasonable 
course, to wait until God should see fit to pro- 
duce a change within us. I do not say that such 
9 



130 



REGENERATION. 



is the actual feeling of all those who profess to 
believe that regeneration is a change of human 
nature, although I know that it is the feeling of 
some ; for I rejoice to believe that there is that 
in the human soul which does awaken one to 
a consciousness that he has a work to do, how- 
ever the creed which he professes may seem to 
contradict such a consciousness. Yet, for myself, 
I say that a belief of this kind, this view of re- 
generation, has a natural tendency to prevent a 
person from regarding it as a duty. Now is this 
in accordance with the teaching of Scripture ? 
Are we not there told that we must work out 
our own salvation? Are we not instructed to 
make us a new heart and a new spirit ? Are we 
not urged to lay hold on the hope set before us ? 
Does not every invitation, every warning, every 
entreaty and command of Scripture, go upon the 
supposition that we have power to comply, to 
become Christians, to be regenerated ? And what 
would every command and exhortation be, but 
a mockery of our wants, if it urged upon us that 
which we could not do ? But can we change our 
natures ? Can we acquire new faculties, or re- 
move original principles ? I can change my char- 
acter, I can acquire new feelings, new desires ; 
but it is as impossible for me to make a change 
in the original constitution of my nature as to ac- 



REGENERATION. 



131 



quire a new sense. None but God can do that 
work. The power which first formed man can 
alone change his nature. And since it is plainly 
our duty and our great work to become Chris- 
tians, I conclude that regeneration is not a change 
of nature. 

Go to the Christian ; has he a different na- 
ture from another man ? He has reason and 
conscience. By these he understands his duty, 
and is punished or rewarded for the neglect or 
the performance of it. By these he learns his 
relation to God. By these he understands all 
his obligations, and he is continually exercising 
them in investigating God's truth, and applying 
it to his heart and life. But he had these same 
faculties before he became a Christian, and the 
appeals and warnings of Scripture were address- 
ed to these, and God was thereby seeking to lead 
him to a perception of his obligations and his 
duties. If he had not possessed these powers, 
every one would say that he would have been 
under no obligation to be a Christian. — The 
Christian has a power within him that feels ven- 
eration for excellence and goodness, and affec- 
tions which spring upward in ardent gratitude to 
God, in the enjoyment of his mercies, and at the 
perception of his paternal love. But he had these 
same faculties before he was a Christian, and 



132 



REGENERATION. 



they were exercised toward his fellow-men. He 
then felt deep veneration for genuine excellence, 
and there was often awakened in his heart a fer- 
vent gratitude for the kindness which he experi- 
enced from others. These feelings were exer- 
cised toward man, hut confined to him. He had 
not yet learned that God alone was worthy of their 
highest exercise. — The Christian has a thirst 
for immortality. He feels that this world can- 
not satisfy him. He looks forward to the future 
world as what alone can and will meet his full 
desires after happiness ; and in that blessed hope 
he rejoices with joy unspeakable and full of glo- 
ry. And I now say that he had that same thirst 
after immortality before he was a Christian. 
There was in him a yearning after that which 
worldly pleasure could "not satisfy ; there were 
desires which the highest earthly prosperity to 
which man ever attained could not meet. He 
had not learned where these feelings, this thirst, 
might be satisfied j still they were there, in the 
soul, making him restless, discontented. — I be- 
lieve that you may thus compare the nature of 
the Christian soul with that of any other, and 
you will find no difference. I do not say, no 
difference in its character, but none in its origi- 
nal principles. Every power belonging to it be- 
longed to it before. The difference is, that the 



REGENERATION. 



133 



powers, before perverted, neglected, depraved, are 
now rightly exercised and devoted to proper ob- 
jects. — And if the Christian did not acquire any- 
new faculties when he became a Christian, neither 
has he lost any which before belonged to him. 
He has the same passions and propensities which 
he had before, but he has learned habitually to 
control them. He keeps them in their proper 
places. He puts them under the government of 
religious motives. They are usefully and prop- 
erly employed, as the Creator designed that they 
should be. The Christian keeps the animal in 
subjection to the spiritual principles of his nature, 
not merely so as to check their outward manifes- 
tations, but to control their inward power, and to 
make every thing within him habitually subser- 
vient to the will of God ; for I believe, that, when 
we trace back the passions and vices of men, we 
shall find that they are the perversion and abuse 
of principles useful in their proper place and un- 
der proper restrictions, but deadly when they are 
exerting a lawless sway over the whole soul. 

My friends, you have received from the hand 
of God a nature, for which you owe him an eter- 
nal debt of gratitude ; a nature, which, in its 
highest capacities, is allied to that of angels, 
and by the development of which the highest 
happiness of eternity is to be enjoyed. O, take 



134 



REGENERATION. 



heed that it be not degraded and defiled ! You 
have a nature, likewise, necessary for you here on 
earth, but which God designed should ever be in 
subjection to the higher and spiritual nature. 
These principles of the animal nature, these pro- 
pensities, constantly strive for the mastery, and 
it needs your incessant vigilance to overcome 
them. This constitutes the warfare to which 
you are called. Here is the conquest which you 
must gain. O, do not yield ! Put on the whole 
armor of God. Watch and pray. Remember, that, 
while you live, you live upon a field of battle. 
You have an incessant conflict to wage. But if 
you will be faithful unto death, God will give 
you a crown of life. Keep every thought, and 
feeling, and desire, in subjection to the will of 
God, to the spotless example of Jesus Christ, and 
you will be a Christian. This will be a new 
life. You will be renewed ; your natures will 
be indeed the same, but every high and spiritual 
power will be devoted to the great purpose for 
which it was given, and every lower principle 
will be kept in subjection and directed to the 
end for which it was designed. 

I have now considered one view of regenera- 
tion, which I deem false, and, if it be false, re- 
generation becomes, instead of an abstract doc- 
trine, a most solemn duty, a duty incumbent up- 



REGENERATION. 



135 



on every one who has an immortal soul, who 
knows that there is a God and a world to come. 
But here we are met by other persons, who aver 
that regeneration is no longer necessary ; that it 
was necessary for the Jews, who had very nar- 
row opinions and feelings, and for the Gentiles, 
who were sunk in idolatry ; but that, in this en- 
lightened period of the world, when there is so 
much knowledge, such correct views in religion, 
it is not needed ; that it was requisite for all who 
were brought up under the influence of the Jew- 
ish or Pagan systems to put away their preju- 
dices, to come to a belief in Jesus as the Mes- 
siah, and humbly receive him as one whom the 
Father had sanctified and sent into the world ; 
and that this change of opinion, this conversion 
from one religion to a far higher and more spirit- 
ual one, is what we are to understand by regen- 
eration ; but they deny the application of the 
term at the present day, except to those who 
come to a belief of this religion after having re- 
jected it, or who have been addicted to open 
vices and immoralities and then forsake them. 
Now I am ready to grant that the change in these 
cases must have been much more observable than 
any at the present day. The Jew had to give 
up his dearly cherished belief in the exclusive 
regard of God to his own nation, and to acknowl- 



136 



REGENERATION. 



edge him as equally the Father of all, Gentiles 
as well as Jews. He had to receive as the Mes- 
siah one who came not in the pomp of royalty, 
as a temporal deliverer, but a humble teacher of 
spiritual religion. He had to renounce his faith in 
the efficacy of forms and sacred observances, and 
to learn that God is to be worshipped in spirit 
and in truth, by humble affection of heart and 
earnest devotion of life ; for the Father seeketh 
such to worship him. The Gentile had to re- 
nounce the false worship to which all his ideas 
of religion had been confined, and to look upon 
them as gross idolatry. He had to forsake all 
that splendid, gorgeous, and voluptuous temple- 
service to which he had been accustomed, to 
become a follower of a crucified Lord, and to 
give his heart to a religion simple, yet uncom- 
promising, requiring perfect purity and holiness. 
But I assert that regeneration is as necessary 
now as it was then ; and they who deny this 
must either show that our religion is not one 
which regards the state of the heart, or that, 
merely by being brought up in a Christian land, 
and in the midst of Christian privileges, men are 
good Christians ; an error very common, I fear, 
but very fatal to a progress in pure religion. 
• Is not regeneration necessary now ? To an- 
swer this, let us see, in the first place, in what 



REGENERATION. 



137 



it consists. It consists in giving unto God the 
first place in our affections. God is revealed to 
us by Jesus Christ under the most endearing 
name, and with the most endearing attributes in 
which it is possible for us to consider any being. 
His tender care and compassion, his kind for- 
bearance, his deep interest in human welfare, are 
all set forth by Jesus in the most touching man- 
ner. And if, by any representation, it is possible 
to show that a being is worthy of the highest, 
holiest affections of our hearts, Jesus hath shown 
us that we ought to give that place to God. 
If he had never told us that the first and great 
commandment was to love God, the representa- 
tion he has given us of his paternal character 
would have made it our duty. For surely he 
in whom we live and move, he who provides 
for our every want, who holds out to us prom- 
ises of endless glory, he whose whole arrange- 
ments have for their purpose the highest good of 
his children, deserves the first place in our hearts. 
And now, I remark, that any love to God short 
of a supreme affection to him is wholly inade- 
quate. If God be what he is represented to be 
in Scripture, and what his works declare, it is 
idolatry to give any other being that first place. 
If we know any thing of religion, he will be loved 
more than all others. O, think not that an oc- 



138 



REGENERATION. 



casional glow of devout feeling is sufficient to 
constitute you a Christian ! Imagine not that it 
is enough to have a feeling of gratitude when 
you receive some signal blessing. If God be not 
habitually in your thoughts, if the love of him 
rise not above every other affection, if you de- 
light not to hold communion with him, you have 
reason to fear that you are yet a stranger to him ; 
and you are not a Christian until you know God, 
and have given him the highest, holiest affec- 
tions of the soul. 

Regeneration has reference likewise to the 
great object of pursuit. Men are engaged in va- 
rious pursuits in life, and each person has, in 
general, one to which he is chiefly devoted, to 
which he makes all others subservient. There 
is in every human heart some ruling desire, some 
great object, the attainment of which is deemed 
most important. With some this object is fame ; 
and then we see men led on by a wild ambi- 
tion, or influenced in all their actions by a love 
of praise, so that they will do an action because 
it may increase their reputation, when they 
would not do it simply because it was right. 
With others this great object is property. To 
the acquisition of this they bend their highest 
energies, and devote themselves with an untiring 
zeal. No difficulties are so formidable as to 



REGENERATION. 



139 



check their ardor ; no labors so arduous as to 
daunt their industry ; but with one great object 
in view, they press on. With others pleasure is 
the chief object. They value every thing as it 
conduces to their amusement, or enables them to 
get along comfortably in life. They look with 
pity upon a man who hoards up never to enjoy, 
and they value property as it may afford them 
the means of ministering to their own comfort. 
Could you look into their hearts, you would find 
men thus variously occupied, and each under the 
influence of some ruling desire. The Christian 
has a ruling desire. He has one great object. 
He looks upon one thing as needful, and with a 
single, steady aim he presses on to its attain- 
ment. And that great object is holiness. He 
does not, indeed, renounce the pursuits of this 
world. He engages in them with interest and 
attention ; but still his heart is elsewhere. He 
looks to a higher object than the attainment of a 
bubble reputation. He desires more enduring 
treasures than this earth can give. He aims after 
purer pleasures than flow from earthly fountains. 
To bring his soul to God, to have it formed in 
God's image, to be a follower of Jesus, — this is 
his great purpose, this is the ruling passion of his 
soul, and his aim is to make every thing else sub- 
servient to this. He has earthly prosperity, but 



140 



REGENERATION. 



his great aim is so to use his possessions that 
they may increase his gratitude to God and pro- 
mote the good of others. He meets with disap- 
pointment in earthly things. Still he feels that 
an opportunity is offered him to carry on his 
great purpose, and he cheerfully resigns himself 
to his Father's will. He feels his immortality. 
He knows that nothing in this brief life can 
come into any comparison with that. He lives 
as a stranger and pilgrim here, and looks contin- 
ually forward with eager hope to the life that is 
eternal in heaven. Now, my hearers, if there be 
any truth in the Bible, if the religion of Jesus is 
not all a delusion, the Christian is the only rea- 
sonable man. If religion be any thing, it must be 
every thing. There can be no such thing, it 
seems to me, as a Christian whose supreme object 
has reference to this world. Religion, if it be 
important at all, makes every thing else appear 
small indeed in comparison with it. 

Here, then, my friends, is my view of regen- 
eration. It takes place whenever we give to 
God the first place in the heart, and make holi- 
ness the supreme object of our pursuit. This is 
regeneration. When the relation of the soul to 
God is felt ; when the soul comes to perceive 
that its ardent aspirations find rest in him, and 
in immortality, and the soul turns to him and 



REGENERATION. 



141 



reposes its confidence and trust in its Heavenly 
Father, and when it sets before itself God's per- 
fect holiness as the great object, then it is born 
again ; it has become new ; that is, regenerated. 
My friends, in the whole history of an immortal 
soul, no event is so important as its first full de- 
votion to the religion of Jesus, as its great work. 
There are many events in life which we deem 
important, for they affect our present happiness, 
they change the whole current of our pursuits. 
We look upon death as important ; for then 
we leave this world ; we put off this tenement 
of flesh ; we go to be judged for the deeds 
done in the body ; we enter on a world which 
we now know little of. And in the history of 
the soul, death has usually been represented as 
the most important event. But it seems to me 
that there is a more important one, — one which 
God. looks upon with far deeper interest than 
any other. It is when the soul awakes from its 
dream of earthly bliss, and rises to the Crea- 
tor as its chief good ; when it throws off the 
shackles of the world and of sin, and comes forth 
regenerated. Then commences a new exist- 
ence. The soul has passed from death to life. It 
has become the image — faint, indeed, but still 
the image — of its Maker, and of its Redeemer. 
Now this life wears a totally different aspect. 



142 



REGENERATION. 



It was once regarded as a season in which a 
man might enjoy the society of friends, and lay 
up his worldly gains, and engage in intellectual 
pursuits. Now it is the school for eternity. Now 
its events are so many lessons by which the 
soul is instructed in its preparation for an im- 
mortal career. Its trials are but a necessary dis- 
cipline, through which the soul must pass, that 
it may be better fitted for a life that is spiritual. 
Once the soul was in darkness. Now it has 
arisen into glorious light. It lives with God. 
It follows the footsteps of Jesus. It aspires after 
holiness. Its affections spring up to their high 
original, and find a worthy object in God. Its 
object of pursuit is no longer limited to this lit- 
tle world, but reaches into eternity. It has 
experienced the most glorious and important 
change. It has passed from death to life. It has 
entered on an endless career. Its glory has be- 
gun. It has taken a step with which no other 
can even compare in importance. 

I may have used language tending to discour- 
age those who are seeking to be religious. But 
I would not cast a shade of disappointment over 
any whose hearts sigh for heavenly peace. From 
what has been said, they may think that they 
have never been regenerated, because they can 
recall no single event to memory, when light and 



REGENERATION. 



143 



liberty possessed their souls. To them I would say, 
that the change of which I speak is not always 
wrought out suddenly. It sometimes steals over 
the soul like the dawn of day upon the morning 
sky, so imperceptibly that none note its progress, 
yet growing brighter and brighter unto the per- 
fect day. Take courage, humble inquirer : for 
every good resolution, every fervent prayer, ev- 
ery victory over temptation, leads you nearer and 
nearer to your glorious home. 

And now, having considered the nature of re- 
generation, we are prepared to inquire who need 
it. It is unnecessary for me to say that it is 
needed by the man of openly vicious habits. 
When a man habitually yields himself to the 
dominion of one sin, however slight it may be, 
when but one evil habit gains possession of him, 
it spreads its contaminating influence through 
the whole character. It prevents any ardent 
love to God, any sincere devotion to his will. 
When the mind for a little while seeks to rise 
above this world, and to aim towards its native 
heaven, this one vice will come and drag it 
down, and pollute, and degrade it. And the 
religion of Jesus can never effectually flourish 
in that heart where there is a single sin habitu- 
ally indulged. My hearers, do you experience 
a coldness of heart in the service of God ? Do 



144 



REGENERATION. 



you find your thoughts and affections brought 
away from heaven and degraded to earth ? 
Search out the cause, and you will often find 
that some sin is possessed of an abiding-place in 
your hearts, and that it is exerting its full in- 
fluence for your final ruin. Guard against those 
sins which most easily beset you. Think not 
to make any compromise with conscience by 
strictness in some things, while you habitually 
indulge in any single sin. You must be born 
again. You must recognize your relation to God. 
You must feel the influence of immortality, and 
must make it your great aim to obtain that holi- 
ness without which no man can see God. — The 
merely intellectual man needs regeneration. God 
has given him the noble powers of intellect, and 
he is exercising them upon the objects about 
him. He awakens thought in other minds. He 
ministers to his own high gratification, and to 
the welfare of society. But was that mind giv- 
en you merely to be exercised upon earthly ob- 
jects ? Should it not aim after some knowledge 
of the Infinite Mind ? Was it not bestowed that 
you might see the relation you sustain to God 
and to other beings, and search into the wants 
and capacities of your own nature ? Could you 
but come to perceive the true object of life, and 
to devote yourself to that object, what a blessing 



REGENERATION. 145 

that mind might be to the world ! But so long 
as you keep your mind away from God, or med- 
itate only upon his abstract nature, so long as 
you think little of eternity, or regard it only as 
adapted to give a field for your imagination, so 
long as you make not holiness your great aim, 
you are really degrading your own soul. The 
humblest Christian, the most unimproved intel- 
lect, if it feels its relation to God, and follows 
Jesus Christ, is immeasurably exalted above you, 
with all your wisdom. That wisdom is but folly, 
if it be not sanctified' by piety. You need re- 
generation. You must be renewed in the spirit 
of your mind. You must attend to the claims 
of the spiritual nature, or your powerful intellect 
will only add a fearful weight to your dread re- 
sponsibility. — The merely moral man needs re- 
generation. Religion and morality never ought 
to be separated. There can be no piety, where 
there is not morality ; for if we love not our 
brother whom we have seen, how can we love 
our God whom we have not seen ? Still, I say 
that morality is not religion. A man may have 
every virtue and excellence, so far as this world 
is concerned, and yet may care very little for 
another. His heart may warm with sympathy 
to his fellow-men, he may be actively benev- 
olent, and that not through mere ostentation, 
10 



146 



REGENERATION. 



but from a real desire to do good : and yet he 
may seldom think of God, and have none of that 
spirit which is called heavenly-mindedness. He 
may be kind in all the relations of life, honest in 
all his dealings ; still, he lives as if the grave 
were the termination of every hope, and as if 
there were no God, calling his children to be- 
come partakers of the divine nature. My friends, 
I do not undervalue morality. O, that it might 
more abound ! But I see that it is not enough. 
I esteem that honorable mind which scorns an 
unworthy action, and that benevolence which is 
constantly exercised in doing good. I delight to 
know that you will sacrifice your own conven- 
ience for the good of others. Still, as Jesus 
said to the young ruler, I feel constrained to say 
to you, " One thing thou lackest." I must say to 
you, that you need a change of heart. You are 
not living for God. You do not regard this life 
as a mere period of probation. You do not live 
for eternity. You are not aiming at holiness as 
your chief good. Your hopes, your affections, 
your objects of pursuit, are all here. The Scrip- 
tures speak of a spiritual mind and of a car- 
nal mind. The former rests on heaven and on 
God. The latter finds its home in earthly things. 
Is not the latter yours ? However faithful and 
kind, are ye not carnally minded, so long as your 



REGENERATION. 



147 



aim is not directed towards heaven? Make you 
a new heart and a new spirit ; for why will ye 
die ? Yes ; why will ye die ? For though ye have 
all other things, yet, if ye have not this spiritual 
mind, you are not Christians ; and what can be 
your hope of a life spiritual and eternal, unless 
renewed in the spirit of your minds ? To be car- 
nally minded is death ; but to be spiritually mind- 
ed is life and peace. Death ! How many sad 
images crowd upon the mind at that word ! It is 
not the mere extinction of animal life, but the 
loss of all that is desirable and happy ; a separa- 
tion from God and heaven ; the destruction of 
every hope which kindles in the Christian's soul. 
Life! What a happy, glorious word ! Not mere 
existence, not exemption from destruction, but 
holy, earnest progress to perfection. When the 
soul with all its wakened powers is fulfilling its 
high , destination, — when it presses on to God 
and lives for immortality, — when it feels the 
glow of a spiritual love and joy lighted up with- 
in, — O, this is life ! And it is a life which has 
no end ; for Jesus has said, " Whosoever liveth 
and believeth in me shall never die." 



SERMON VI. 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 

REMEMBER THY CREATOR IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH. 

Ecclesiastes, xii. 1. 

There is no period of life in which it is 
more proper for us to devote ourselves to the 
religion of Jesus Christ, than the season of 
youth. While our hopes are bright, and our 
affections ardent, and life is holding out to us 
its fair promises, and we are surrounded by the 
allurements of pleasure, there is a solemn call 
upon us to give our hearts to God ; and at no 
period of life is such an offering more accepta- 
ble to our Heavenly Father. But how few are 
there who feel the importance of an active, de- 
voted life of holiness, commencing with the 
first dawn of reason, and continuing to the end 
of their existence ! How few who understand 
the nature of religion, which, to be valuable, 
must wholly control the passions, and must 
never cease to exert its salutary influences ! 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



149 



And to what do those devote this spring-time 
of existence who refuse to give it up to the in- 
fluences of true religion ? They spend it in 
idle amusement, or in the common employments 
of the world. They seek for true happiness 
where experience will teach them that it cannot 
be found. They forget, in the joyful anticipa- 
tions of worldly prosperity and honor, that there 
is one thing needful for their true honor and 
glory, and for their eternal happiness. While 
there are so many allurements about the path of 
the young to draw away their attention from 
the interesting and solemn purposes of their ex- 
istence, it may seem to be almost a useless 
endeavour to seek to turn them from the pursuit 
of what is in compairson trifling, and to inspire 
them with a proper sense of the value of the 
immortal principle within them. But ought we 
to be discouraged from the attempt ? Ought 
the minister of Christ, whose duty it is to warn 
men of their danger, and to lead them to appre- 
ciate their true happiness, — ought he to shrink 
from this duty, because there is small hope that 
the calm voice of reason and conscience will be 
heard amid the uproar of passion and the tu- 
mult of worldly pleasures? He would be a 
traitor to that cause in which Jesus died, should 
he permit any such feelings to check his ear- 



150 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



nestness, or prevent his utmost efforts to turn 
from evil and irreligion those whom he be- 
lieves to be in danger. 

It is with such views of my duty toward you, 
that I would renewedly urge upon you the abso- 
lute importance of adopting the religion of Jesus 
Christ as your guide through life. There are 
those who acknowledge the truth of that reve- 
lation which Jesus Christ has brought from 
heaven, and who will confess that a practical 
adherence to the precepts which he uttered, and 
a full possession of the spirit and temper which 
he manifested, are most reasonable and most im- 
portant. They know that they must become 
religious, otherwise there can be no happiness 
in store for them in the future world. They 
would not by any means wish to think that 
they will go out of the world uninfluenced by 
the motives of the gospel ; still, they seem 
to feel that religion is not for them now, that 
they need not heed its invitations and its warn- 
ings ; and in the thoughtlessness of youth, they 
continue to delay. To these I would speak, 
and would set before them the claims of re- 
ligion to their immediate attention. I would 
give several reasons, why you ought now to 
make Christianity the guide of your lives, and 
to establish its empire in your hearts. 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



151 



I. By becoming religious in youth, you will 
escape much disappointment in regard to this 
life. To the young, life appears full of joy and 
happiness. They have hardly felt the sting 
of disappointment. They have not experienced 
how cold and selfish the hearts of men often 
are. They have not learned how sad and sor- 
rowful must be many of their days on earth, 
and they look forward with all the eager hope 
and fond desire which characterize their period 
of life. The world is all before them, and the 
view which they take of it has often and very 
justly been compared with that which one takes 
of a distant prospect. A beautiful verdure seems 
to cover the distant hills. Every thing ap- 
pears fair and delightful. The paths in which 
they are to walk present to their view no as- 
perities or difficulties. The rough places are all 
made smooth, and an air of calm serenity and 
happiness seems to rest over the whole. But 
as the distance lessens between them and this 
imaginary scene of enchantment, they perceive 
that there are difficulties to encounter, of which 
they suspected nothing before. They find bar- 
renness and want, where appeared the most 
abundant plenty ; and dangers will encompass 
their path, where all seemed security. Thus 
does life appear to the unexperienced ; and thus 



152 MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 

different will they find it to be, when they have 
entered upon its scenes. Then how sad the 
disappointments to which they are exposed ! 
The hopes which they had cherished of such 
pure and unsullied happiness are doomed to meet 
with failure, and they sink down in despond- 
ency and sorrow. But is there no help for this? 
Must all go on with these bright views and fair 
prospects, to end only in sadness, when they 
come to know how illusory were their expecta- 
tions ? No, my friends, there is one guide, one 
teacher, to whose voice you may listen, and 
who will tell you beforehand the worth of all 
these things. Religion will give you right views 
of the purposes of life. Religion will declare 
to you, that you must not look upon the world 
as a scene of enjoyment, but as intended to fit 
you, by its trials, and temptations, and duties, 
for the happiness of heaven, — a happiness which 
can result only from a heart at peace with itself 
and the world, and in union with God. But 
you may say, Does not Christ teach this truth to 
all, to the irreligious as well as to the religious ? 
Does not observation declare it to us ? Do we 
not know, from the experience of others, that 
we are not to look for unmingled happiness 
on earth ? We do, indeed. But, my friends, 
be assured, if you feel the power of religion in 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



153 



your hearts, it will produce a much more real 
conviction of this truth ; and you will be pre- 
pared to meet evils, which come upon you, not 
because they are inevitable, but because they 
flow from the wise appointment of Providence 
for our moral discipline and progress. Embrace, 
then, the religion which connects God with all 
his creatures, and which teaches his paternal 
care and affection ; which takes away the false 
glitter from the world before your hearts have 
become fascinated by it, and which thus pre- 
vents those sad disappointments which they 
must experience, who, in entering upon life, 
look for much happiness unconnected with re- 
ligion. Religion will lead you to more sober, 
rational views of life. It will not conceal its 
trials from you, but will strengthen you to bear 
them. It will not keep from your sight its 
difficulties, but will arm you to overcome them. 

II. But, besides, it is good for you to remem- 
ber your Creator in youth, because then, if ever, 
you need the restraints which religion would 
impose. Then temptation is strong, and it holds 
out the most alluring promises to the thought- 
less and inexperienced. It whispers the insidi- 
ous falsehood, that a little indulgence, though it 
be not, perhaps, perfectly consistent with duty, 
can do no real injury ; that a momentary devia- 



154 MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



tion from the path of rectitude can easily be 
remedied ; that you may return again without 
essential injury to your souls. Beware of such 
flattering promises. Many are those, who, lis- 
tening to them, have forsaken the path of strict 
integrity, and have been led on from one degree 
of sin to another, until they have wandered 
away too far ever to return. Be not willing to 
add another to these victims of delusion. Your 
passions are strong, your love of pleasure great ; 
and perhaps you have a secret, yet strong, aver- 
sion to the restraints of conscience, which you 
would wish to conceal even from yourselves. 
Strip off all disguise from your feelings, and 
take an impartial view of them. Do you not 
find envy lurking within ? Is not pride ruling 
with powerful sway over your heart ? Does not 
inclination urge you to yield to the call of for- 
bidden or useless pleasure ? Look carefully, and 
do you not perceive your danger, surrounded by 
the foes of virtue and true goodness, to which 
you are half inclined to yield, having within 
you passions which are pleading with power for 
indulgence, and which, if indulged, will bring 
you to ruin ? And do you not feel, then, the 
need of some controlling principle, some power 
within you, which shall establish upon an un- 
shaken foundation the throne of conscience, so 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



155 



that the storms of passion and the winds and 
waves of temptation may beat against it and not 
be able to overthrow it ? Will you not seek some- 
thing which shall prevent you from following 
the course into which so many have gone before 
you ? Be assured, certain safety can be found 
only in the restraints and checks which religion 
would impose. It would not diminish your 
happiness^: it would only lead you to know 
where it may be obtained unalloyed by remorse. 
Religion will govern the passions and keep them 
in subjection ; it will impart to you a power 
over outward temptation which nothing else can 
give ; and by its aid you may go in safety 
through dangers which would otherwise make 
shipwreck of your character and your hopes for 
time and for eternity. Will you not cling to 
these hopes as your great support ? Will you 
willingly lose the power which they might give 
you over the world ? Gain, then, those holy 
principles which can, and which will, restrain 
you in time of need, and prepare you for the 
peace and joy of the unseen world. 

III. But if you acknowledge that religion ever 
will be important to you, — and who of you does 
not cherish the hope, that, when the shadows 
of death come upon you, they will find you in 
the enjoyment of heavenly light and peace ? — 



156 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



if you acknowledge, I say, that it will ever be 
important to you, I would urge you to obtain its 
hopes and feel its influence now, because it will 
be far easier for you than at any future period 
of your existence. You all know the power 
of habit both for good and for evil. You know, 
that, when we have accustomed ourselves to act 
upon any certain principle, it becomes far easier 
for us to continue in the same course ; that, 
when, for instance, we have uniformly obeyed 
conscience and God, obedience becomes a pleas- 
ure, not a task. Do you not know, also, that, 
where the influence of this powerful principle of 
our nature is all on the side of sin, its power is 
almost too great for man to overcome ? It is a 
most appalling fact, that the habit of religious 
indifference seems to have become fixed in the 
minds of many, and to exert an influence which 
all Christian motives cannot conquer. And it 
may be, that a man's probation is often ended 
before he has lived out half his days on earth. 
And what, let me ask, is more powerful than 
this habit of indifference to religion ? Have you 
not known, have you not seen, how it will resist 
every effort to remove it ; how it will be unin- 
fluenced by all the motives which usually act 
upon the human soul ; how it will make one 
insensible to the most awful sanctions of the 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



157 



divine law ? It is a truth which every day's 
experience confirms, that delay renders the work 
of duty continually more arduous. And are you 
willing to increase the difficulties of what you 
know must be accomplished, for the sake of 
some gratifications which are incompatible with 
religion, and which must fill you with sad re- 
morse ? I know it has been the case, that, 
though religion has been neglected and slighted 
in youth, it has asserted its power over the hu- 
man soul in later years ; that the strong affliction 
and agony of the heart have called for its sup- 
port, though in the earlier periods of life it has 
been a stranger to its power. But then I know 
how terrible must have been those internal com- 
motions, in order to destroy the dominion of 
habit, whose chains had held the soul in the 
bondage of sin or worldliness. Perhaps your 
own. experience, brief as it may have been, has 
taught you how strong is this power. There 
was a time, when, in the innocence of child- 
hood, you listened to the voice of parental affec- 
tion, teaching you the love of your Heavenly 
Father. Your hearts were then touched with 
gratitude toward the great Bestower of your 
blessings. You heard the story of the Saviour's 
interest in man. You saw him, in your childish 
imagination, going forth upon the blessed errand 



158 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



of doing good. You saw him looking with be- 
nignant eye upon the little children who were 
brought to receive his blessing. Then you loved 
him, and you resolved to obey him. Your warm 
affections were carried up to God, and feelings 
of true devotion rilled your hearts. Such feel- 
ings may have continued for a time. But the 
pleasures of the world came in, and, instead of 
leading you, as they ought, to an increased thank- 
fulness, they hardened your heart, and drove from 
it all the tender emotions of love to God and re- 
gard to his favor. And thus you have lived 
since, sometimes feeling the sting of remorse at 
your ingratitude, and then yielding yourself to 
the seductive influences of pleasure and irreli- 
gion. Have I told the history of any among you ? 
How hard do you not find it now to turn your 
affections to religion and to heaven ! How irk- 
some is it, to lift up your soul in prayer to your 
Maker ! And has it, indeed, come to this ? Is 
that highest of our privileges become a task, — 
a privilege which once it was your delight and 
joy to use ? Then, my friends, have you felt 
how habit could deaden your moral sensibility ? 
Is there no danger in such a state ? Will not this 
be increasing upon you ? Turn, then, now, 
while the power is yours. Before that habit of 
indifference becomes too strong, destroy it. Ev- 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



159 



ery day's delay makes the work more difficult. 
Remember now thy Creator, in the days of thy 
youth. Learn to rejoice in the consciousness 
of his presence. Learn to live as the child of 
God • as one who is looking forward beyond this 
life, to the happiness of another. 

IV. You should seek religion in youth, because 
delay must render you liable to much sorrow. 
Think you, if in after-life you are brought to 
religion, that there will be no regrets for your 
carelessness and ingratitude ? Will there be no 
bitter tears of remorse, that you slighted for 
so long a time the invitations of your Father 
in Heaven, of your compassionate Saviour ? 
None but they who have turned from sin to 
holiness, and from irreligion to the love of God, 
after the best of their days have been passed 
without reference to the great object of exist- 
ence, — none but these can tell how strong the 
sorrow of a late repentance, how deep the dis- 
tress which the awakened soul must feel in 
the consciousness of so much neglect. Do you 
wish to know this bitterness of sorrow by your 
own experience ? Go on, then, in your thought- 
lessness and folly. But if you would escape all 
this, make religion your guide now. Obey its 
dictates, and you will be happy. 

V. Again, religion is necessary for the young, 



160 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



because God requires the whole of life, not a part 
only. The work which he has intrusted to 
every human being is not any thing which can 
be put off until sickness has racked the frame, 
and old age has laid its palsying hand upon 
you. It requires the strength and vigor of 
your days. Why were you sent here ? For 
what purpose were your opportunities bestowed 
upon you ? To be wasted and neglected, or 
to be cultivated and improved? You cannot 
hesitate in your answer. Act, then, according 
to your sober convictions. Resist them not, for 
they may rise up and condemn you. 

VI. But there is a more solemn thought. I 
would that we might all realize it. It is the un- 
certainty of life. It is a common subject of ex- 
hortation ; but is it the less true ? or does this 
make your duty the less binding, — your danger 
the less appalling? If you neglect religion now, 
you may have no further opportunity to culti- 
vate it. Is to-morrow yours? Have you a 
charter for your lives ? You say that you will 
have time enough for religion. Does experi- 
ence warrant your reliance upon the future? 
Perhaps you have had some youthful associate, 
who, in the gayety and frivolity of life, fancied 
himself secure from the assaults of death, and 
so with an insane confidence put off, to what he 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 161 

called some more convenient season, the sub- 
ject of religion. He had his serious thoughts ; 
and at times he formed good resolutions. But 
he mingled again with heedless companions, 
and permitted these thoughts to depart. He 
quenched the kindling flame of piety. And so 
he lived on in this thoughtlessness, his heart 
growing harder with habitual resistance of the 
demands of conscience. Suddenly, in the midst 
of his busy plans and enjoyments, sickness 
came and brought him low, and before he could 
reflect upon his real condition, he was summon- 
ed to his great account. And what confidence 
have you that this history will not be yours ? O, 
do not risk your happiness upon such an uncer- 
tainty ! As you hope for a support in the hour 
of sickness, as you would meet death with a 
Christian calmness, do not delay securing for 
yourselves this inestimable treasure. Now is the 
accepted time, now is the day of salvation. 



11 



SERMON VII. 



MORAL PRINCIPLE TO BE CARRIED INTO 
POLITICAL CONDUCT. 

AND HE AROSE AND REBUKED THE WIND, AND SAID UNTO THE 
SEA, PEACE, BE STILL ! AND THE WIND CEASED, AND THERE 

was a great calm. — Mark, iv. 39. 

A storm of no ordinary violence had come 
down upon the Sea of Galilee. Its calm waters 
had been lashed into fury by a mighty wind 
rushing down from some of the mountain gorges 
in which they lay embosomed, and were now 
tossing in angry and terrific waves upward to the 
very heavens. A few small fishing vessels are 
struggling with the fury of the tempest ; now 
lifted up on the crest of some enormous wave, 
now sinking rapidly away into the yawning 
gulf. Turn your attention to one of these 
frail vessels. See how she bends before the 
power of that storm. Her cordage straining, 
her planks starting, her timbers creaking and 
groaning, as she madly plunges from wave to 



POLITICAL CONDUCT. 



163 



wave, and the sea making constant breaches 
over her. The few fishermen composing her 
crew are inured to hardship and danger, and 
accustomed to those sudden blasts which sweep 
down from their native shores ; but their hearts 
fail them now ; for, with a sinking ship in the 
midst of this raging sea, what earthly hope of 
safety have they left ? Asleep upon a pillow in 
their little cabin lies one of more than mortal pow- 
er. He had been laboring to instruct and bless 
the multitudes who thronged around him, eager 
to catch the words of grace and truth which he 
uttered, — some to be healed of their infirmities 
by his wo*ndrous power. And now, worn out 
with fatigue, he has fallen into a deep sleep. 
How calm those slumbers are ! No troubled 
conscience conjures up terrific dreams to haunt 
him in his sleep, for he has ever done the will 
of God. Alarmed at their pressing danger, his 
companions come to him and awake him. " Save 
us, Master," say they, " or we perish ! Carest 
thou not that we perish ? " Then he arose and 
rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, " Peace, 
be still ! " At his voice disease had fled, and the 
dead had been summoned back to life. And 
now, when that voice was heard, the winds 
were hushed, and the swelling waves sunk at 
once to rest, and there was a great calm. 



164 



MORAL PRINCIPLE 



O, that that voice could now be heard over 
the stormy sea of our political conflicts, and 
could hush the angry passions of men to rest ! 
Could you, my friends, amid all the excite- 
ment and agitation of the present political con- 
test, # hear that voice, saying unto you, " Peace, 
be still ! " would you not listen to it ? Would 
not your excited passions die away, as did the 
waves on the Lake of Galilee ? At his re- 
buke, would not your minds grow calm ? You 
can hear that voice. In the silence of your 
own hearts may it be heard. In the records of 
his truth may it be heard. And it commands 
you to restrain every ungenerous and unjust 
feeling, to keep a pure heart, to reverence truth, 
and to obey the slightest dictates of conscience, 
more than the interest of party, or any of your 
own supposed interests. I would, my friends, 
that I were able so to present to your minds 
the teachings of Jesus, that amid the present 
agitation they should abide with you and exert 
a supreme control over you. It is in seasons 
like the present, when the public mind is so 
exceedingly agitated, that we most of all need 
the restraining power of the Christian religion. 
That religion has to do with us not merely as 



* Preached on the second Sunday of November, 1840. 



IN POLITICAL CONDUCT. 



165 



it regards a preparation for a future world, and 
the inculcation of those duties which are deem- 
ed more exclusively religious duties ; it claims a 
control over all our motives, purposes, and pro- 
ceedings relating to this present life. It would 
go with us into the midst of the moral dangers 
and excitements of the world, and it would 
make us firm and faithful amid them. And the 
more exciting the circumstances in which we 
are placed, and the more pressing the moral dan- 
gers which surround our path, the more need have 
we to call on a higher power than worldly expedi- 
ency for help. We must secure to our aid Chris- 
tian principle, if we would not make shipwreck 
of character. So they are clearly wrong, who 
would exclude from the cognizance and control 
of religion the political interests, or any other in- 
terests, of man. And that pulpit is false to its 
trust, which, when dangers threaten the soul, 
fails to warn, to entreat, to exhort. 

Let me say, then, in the first place, that every 
man is bound to carry with him into political 
action, and especially in the exercise of the 
right of suffrage, sound Christian principles. 
Moral principles are not to be put on or off as 
may suit our convenience or our supposed in- 
terest. The ideas of responsibility to God, and 
of the welfare of the soul, are not meant to be 



166 



MORAL PRINCIPLE 



mere Sabbath-day themes for devout meditation. 
They are meant to bear upon us in our tempta- 
tions, amid all the exciting scenes of life. The 
determination to act upon principles of justice, 
honesty, love, certainly should not forsake us 
when these principles are the most perilled. 
And I know of no reason which releases a man 
from the dominion of these principles in politics, 
if they are ever of importance to him. If they 
are important for him in the family circle, or in 
social intercourse, or in the common business of 
life, they are equally important in his political re- 
lations. There may appear to some an incon- 
gruity in thinking of God and our accounta- 
bility to him amid political excitement. If there 
is any inconsistency in the case, then we have no 
right to mingle in political contests. For I con- 
tend that that can be no fit place for any man, 
and no fit business for any man, in which he 
cannot with propriety remember, " Thou, God, 
seest me!" and in which he cannot with pro- 
priety seek the blessing of God. O, what a 
widely different scene would our elections pre- 
sent, if men would have as much principle about 
them there, as they seem to have in the com- 
mon business and intercourse of society ! 

The man of principle will vote according to 
what he deems the best interests of his country. 



IN POLITICAL CONDUCT. 



167 



He will try to enlighten his mind from all the 
sources of information within his reach. He will 
endeavour to understand the means whereby the 
public welfare is most promoted, and without 
fear or favor will he accordingly vote. He cer- 
tainly will not be hurried along by his own 
blind prejudices and passions, nor will he act 
upon the dictation or solicitation of those about 
him, nor will he selfishly consult his own pri- 
vate interests. The ever present idea of duty, 
of accountability to God, will be upon his mind. 
And as he would vote understandingly and ac- 
cording to his own sense of duty, not selling 
his vote for popularity, or office, or money, so 
neither will he tamper with another man's con- 
science in this matter. He will use no undue 
influence to control the votes of others. He 
will scorn to address their selfish interests, or 
their prejudices, in order to induce them to vote 
with him. He would not dare to lay a snare 
in another's way. He would rather that his par- 
ty's interest should suffer, — yes, that his party 
should be utterly defeated, than swerve one jot 
or one title from strict moral principle, or than 
tempt another man so to do. And now, my 
friends, I put it to you, whether, so far as you 
may be concerned, you will endeavour in your 
political conduct to act up to this principle ; or 



168 



MORAL PRINCIPLE 



whether you will suffer your minds to be blind- 
ed by prejudice, or use any influence over an- 
other which you would scorn to submit to your- 
selves. Who of you is willing to promote the 
interest of his party at the expense of a de- 
graded character, a condemning conscience, and 
the- disapprobation of God? Yet this is the 
price which many are paying for the bare hope 
of political success. Foolish men ! to throw 
away all that is most dear and valuable for what 
profits them nothing, — to lose the esteem of all 
whose esteem is valuable, — to lose their own 
self-respect, so that, although they may exult over 
their political success, they cannot but despise 
themselves, — to lose the sweet approbation of 
conscience, which he alone can enjoy who acts 
up to its enlightened dictates, — to feel that their 
very companions in guilt, those who have en- 
couraged them on in their unprincipled course, 
can have no respect for them, no confidence in 
them, — to lose all this, and gain what ? why, 
a bare hope of political success. Who would 
pay such a price for such a miserable object ? 
You may not suffer all these things, as some 
have done, by a departure from sound moral 
principle ; but let me remind you and urge it 
upon you, that, just so far as in your political 
concerns you take counsel of passion, prejudice, 



IN POLITICAL CONDUCT. 



169 



or supposed self-interest, instead of strict prin- 
ciple, you are losing infinitely more than you 
gain. You are harming yourselves infinitely 
more than you can harm those politically op- 
posed to you. I do entreat you amid the excite- 
ment of your political elections to remember this, 
and keep a strict guard over your own hearts. 

Secondly, you should keep a strict control over 
the temper. Times of political excitement are 
dangerous seasons for a man of quick passions ; 
and they, indeed, excite even the most calm 
and cautious to the indulgence and expression 
of feelings which they afterwards bitterly regret. 
When Paul was tarrying at Melita, after his 
shipwreck, as he was standing warming himself, 
there came a viper out of the heat and fastened 
upon him. So from the heat of political excite- 
ment does the viper come forth, and fasten it- 
self upon our hearts. O, that Ave might have 
Paul's Christian principle, that we could shake 
it off, and be as unharmed as he ! But, alas ! it 
stings our souls. It engenders malice, and hatred, 
and ill-will. It inflames our temper, and makes 
us do and say things, which in our calmer hours 
we never could have been guilty of. One ill- 
tempered word brings on another. The pas- 
sion of one easily kindles that of another ; and 
permanent aversion or ill-will results from these 



170 



MORAL PRINCIPLE 



hasty words. Keep, then, a strict guard, not only- 
over the lips, but over the temper, that it be 
not excited against your neighbour. There are 
many men who cannot talk upon political sub- 
jects with those who differ from them, without 
strong excitement. Let such avoid a subject 
which so easily leads them into sin. If ill- 
temper did any good whatever, there might be 
some little excuse for it. But what good does 
it do ? You can never convince any man of 
the correctness of your opinions, by getting an- 
gry with him ; nor can it, so far as I can see, 
promote in any way the success of your cause. 
It can do no more in politics than it has done 
in religion. Bigotry and intolerance have al- 
ways driven men farther away from any cause 
in defence of which they are manifested. But 
it not only does no good, it does exceeding 
harm. It irritates your own soul, making you 
the slave of your passions. It sows the seeds 
of discord and ill-will among neighbours, be- 
tween whom there ought to be nothing but 
harmony and good-will. It thus brings upon 
the community, which is cursed with it, far 
greater evils than could have ensued from the 
utter prostration and defeat of the party with 
which you act. Just weigh well all the evils 
which ill-will and irritated, excited passions 



IN POLITICAL CONDUCT. 



171 



cause, and I think you will resolve, that, come 
what may, you will not give way to an excited 
temper, but will guard against the utterance of 
any unkind word, and keep your hearts with 
all diligence. 

And, finally, cherish a spirit of justice. Do 
not be so prejudiced as to think that others are 
dishonest and wilfully blind, because they can- 
not agree with you. Apply here the golden 
rule. You feel that it would be gross injustice 
to yourself, to be charged with wilful dishon- 
esty. Do unto others as you would that they 
should do to you. They have their political 
opinions, which, doubtless, are as dear to them 
as yours are to you. Let your dealings toward 
them be characterized by that fairness and 
candor which you claim at their hands. Be 
just to their motives, which very probably are 
as pure and patriotic as your own. Do not deal 
in hard names. They prove nothing, except, 
perhaps, the ignorance and prejudice of him 
who uses them. They are poor arguments with 
which to convince an opponent. Remember 
that no political success can compensate for the 
evil and misery of uncharitable judgment and 
harsh denunciation. The happiness of a little 
community like ours depends vastly more upon 
our friendly and social feelings, our honest regard 



172 



MORAL PRINCIPLE 



for others' rights, than it does upon the adminis- 
tration of the general government. Do not let 
us, then, throw away these certain blessings, 
which we can enjoy if we choose, for the vain 
hope of political success. 

There are many in both political parties here 
before me. I cannot but feel respect for their 
honesty and their worth. Yet I cannot but de- 
plore the strong political excitement, which men 
of both parties seem anxious to increase rather 
than allay. This excitement certainly is not 
favorable to the spread of truth. And I am 
afraid, therefore, that, as in many other con- 
tests, so in this, the object is victory, not truth. 
I am afraid that men will look with more favor 
upon a bad man of their own party than upon a 
good man of the opposite party, and so the moral 
feelings and principles of the community be per- 
verted. Let us take heed to the influences un- 
der which the young are growing up ; lest, by our 
recklessness and want of Christian principle in 
this matter, we lead them to put self above prin- 
ciple in other matters. They are apt followers of 
bad example ; and are now looking to the leaders 
of society, to know upon what principles they are 
to shape their future course. Take heed that 
you lead them not astray to their ruin. 

I close, as I began, by urging you, in the 



IN POLITICAL CONDUCT. 173 

present and in all coming scenes of political con- 
flict, to keep with you sound moral and religions 
principles. There is no other guide in the storm. 
May Christ, by his spirit, dwell in your hearts, 
and say to your agitated passions, " Peace, be 
still ! " 



SERMON VIII. 



TO YOUNG MEN. 

YOUNG MEN LIKEWISE EXHORT TO BE SOBER-MINDED. — 

Titus, ii. 6. 

The relation of a minister to the young men 
of his society is a peculiar, and, in some re- 
spects, an embarrassing one. There are too fre- 
quently wanting that freedom of intercourse, 
and that mutual confidence, without which a 
minister labors almost in vain, or at least ex- 
erts himself at random. The time has been, 
when there was something repulsive in the very 
office of a minister of the gospel, especially to 
the younger portion of his society. There was 
an awe, a dread, attendant upon him, which 
prevented that easy familiarity and intimate 
friendship, without which so little good can be 
accomplished. This was partly the fault of the 
people, because they put on a peculiar aspect in 
the presence of their minister ; but perhaps it 
was more to be attributed to the minister, who, 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



175 



with false notions of what constitutes true dig- 
nity of character, assumed an external severity 
and sternness of demeanour, which kept every one 
at a distance from him, and produced embarrass- 
ment and reserve wherever he came. These 
circumstances may seem trifling to many per- 
sons ; but to me they appear to be of serious 
importance, and I believe that they have retard- 
ed the progress of the gospel in no small degree. 
If there were no external means of religion, no 
preaching of the gospel, that gospel would be 
no less important to man, that religion would 
be no less true. There would be the same God, 
to whom obedience would be due, and the same 
duties toward him would be binding upon men. 
There would be the same responsibility and 
the same consequences attached to the present 
characters and conduct of men. But they would 
not be so much felt. And every one knows, 
when these duties are urged upon our atten- 
tion by one in whom we have confidence, and 
by one who is acquainted with our peculiar feel- 
ings in regard to them, how much more they 
fix themselves upon the attention. And there- 
fore, when there is a want of confidence and 
mutual acquaintance between a minister and 
any portion of his hearers, they do not enter so 
readily into his feelings! upon any subject on 



176 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



which he speaks ; and he knows not what may 
be their peculiar feelings, and therefore is at a 
loss to know in what manner the most effect- 
ually to speak to them. Much of this reserve, 
on the one hand, and of this false dignity, on 
the other, I sincerely trust, has passed away. 
Still, there is not that feeling of mutual friend- 
ship and interest, which there ought to be. And 
the young men of a society are too much in- 
clined to regard the remarks which their minis- 
ter makes upon the importance of religion as 
mere words of form, as a part of his business, 
in which they have no peculiar interest. 

My friends, in speaking to you at this time, I 
wish to lay aside this formality and reserve. 
And I wish you to regard what I have to say, 
not merely as a formal discourse of a clergy- 
man, whose business it is to urge religious du- 
ties upon his hearers, but as the advice of a 
friend, of one who has your best good at heart, 
whose chief desire it is so to set before you your 
duties, that you may discharge them, and your 
dangers, that you may avoid them. I would 
speak to you as one of yourselves, who, although, 
from the prevalence of the influences and impres- 
sions to which I have referred, not so intimate 
with you as he might wish, is yet anxious for 
your happiness. If there be any thing, as I , 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



177 



apprehend, in the circumstance of my being a 
clergyman, which may tend to diminish the 
influence of what I say, I would lay aside all 
that official character, and desire to come to you 
in the simple character of a friend, deeply, yes, 
unspeakably, interested in your good ; and I 
would request you to listen to my remarks, as 
you would to one who was urging you to what 
was of great importance to you. Permit me, 
then, with these feelings, to address a few plain 
remarks to you upon the dangers to which you 
are peculiarly exposed in regard to religion. 

I. And the first danger, of which I feel com- 
pelled to speak, is the danger of a rejection of 
Christianity, a disbelief in revelation. There 
are persons in the world, who are enjoying all 
the social and civil blessings which the Chris- 
tian religion has conferred upon man, yet who 
scoff at its requirements and its doctrines. With- 
out any thorough examination of the grounds 
upon which it rests, they have taken up with a 
few plausible objections to it, and have pretend- 
ed to consider them far superior to the evidences 
in its favor. If such men were ever actuated 
by a sincere desire after truth, if it were their 
great object to know the right and to pursue 
it, and if they found their minds harassed 
by doubts, I should urge them to come to a 
12 



178 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



calm, unprejudiced examination of the evidences 
of religion. But we all know, that, so far as 
we can understand men's motives and feelings, 
those who reject Christianity do not always 
examine its claims with candor, and often, in- 
deed, will not deign to inquire into the argu- 
ments which are urged in its behalf. We all 
know that ridicule and contempt are the weap- 
ons with which they are seeking to beat down 
that religion which is founded on the Rock of 
Ages. This is surely a course but ill adapted 
to rational men. If the Christian religion be 
met fairly, it must be met by sober argument, 
and not by ridicule. A religion, which has 
withstood and surmounted the shock of perse- 
cution and insult for ages, is not to be cast 
aside by the scoffs of a few men who know not 
the divine spirit which it breathes, or the firm 
foundation upon which it rests. 

I have said that young men are in danger of 
rejecting this religion ; and I say this, because 
those who are inimical to it have succeeded in 
some measure in producing a persuasion, that be- 
lief is the result of a vulgar prejudice, and that it 
is an evidence of an independent mind to rise 
above all vulgar prejudices. The young are easi- 
ly caught by these appeals to their independence 
of spirit, and by this call to free themselves from 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



179 



vulgar prejudice. True independence of mind is 
much to be prized. It is highly desirable to rise 
above prejudice and passion, to overcome the in- 
fluences which are constantly exerted to bias our 
opinions, so that the judgment and reason may 
be enabled to act calmly. But there is that 
which assumes the name of independence with- 
out any of its genuine character. This false 
independence of mind is the great secret of the 
rejection of Christianity. Men who are anxious 
for the reputation of independence will endeav- 
our to gain it by eccentricity of opinion. But 
it would be well to consider, that those who 
think themselves most independent are often 
the least so. It is quite as degrading to become 
the slave of one's own prejudices, as of those 
of the world at large. It is as truly contemp- 
tible to be under the guidance of those who 
are skeptical, and who are casting ridicule upon 
the truths of religion, as it is to be the slave of 
superstition. And I would, therefore, advise you, 
if your mind is in any respect inclined to infi- 
delity, merely to examine into your motives. 
Are you really actuated by a sober desire to 
know the right ? Have you an earnest love of 
truth, and are you determined to yield to that, 
and that alone ? Or are you merely seeking, in 
your skepticism, the credit of independence ? Are 



180 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



you looking with a kind of complacency upon 
your doubts, as if they proved that you had a 
mind superior to vulgar prejudices ? Have you 
a feeling of admiration for those who have cast 
religion from them, as if they thus manifest- 
ed a bold and becoming spirit ? If these be 
your feelings, I do entreat you, my friends, to 
beware of the results to which they may lead 
you. There is, believe me, more true indepen- 
dence of mind in rising above those views which 
tend to captivate the young by their boldness 
and novelty. There is more true firmness of 
mind in resisting the influence of those who 
are merely employing the weapon of ridicule 
against religion, than there can be in yielding 
to them. It is a mark of a higher order of in- 
tellect, to exercise one's own judgment, unbias- 
ed by one's own prejudices, than to yield to 
this love of eccentricity. But do you find your- 
selves inclined by these feelings to a rejection 
of Christianity ? 0, remember that it at least 
claims an impartial, a thorough examination ! 
Remember that it demands of you, that you 
reject it not, till you have answered its argu- 
ments,, and proved it to be false. Remember, 
that, professing to come from God, setting forth 
confessedly the most sublime views of h'm 
which the world ever knew, giving the most 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



181 



elevated conceptions of human destiny and hu- 
man duty, it has claims upon your attention, 
from which it would be folly to turn away 
without examination. Remember, that, if you 
succeed in removing from your minds a belief in 
it, you are only degrading your own souls. You 
are exchanging darkness for light. You are put 
ting the darkness of the grave for the light of im- 
mortality. Are you rejecting it without inquiry? 
Remember, that, if true, it is of more importance 
to you than all other truths, — if true, it is pre- 
sumption, madness, in you to cast it from you. 
O, my friends, by all that is sublime in its revela- 
tions, by all its soul-stirring warnings, by all its 
glorious promises, be warned, take heed, lest, in 
thoughtlessly or proudly rejecting it, you prove 
yourselves unworthy of the reason with which 
you have been endowed, and incur the hazard of 
forsaking the cheering light of truth, and rush- 
ing into the sad darkness of error and despair ! 

II. But if you are not in danger of a deliberate 
disbelief of religion, you may be in danger of 
despising that sincere piety which it requires. 
With some persons, all earnestness and deep in- 
terest in religion are accounted fanaticism. They 
would think that a man might reasonably be in 
earnest, where earthly treasures are to be obtain- 
ed ; but where heavenly treasures are sought after 



182 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



with eagerness and zeal, they regard the pursuit 
as visionary. When property is in danger, when 
the devouring flames are spreading toward their 
dwellings, they would deem it folly to look on 
unconcerned. When the soul is in danger, and 
the ruin of irreligion is spreading itself, they deem 
it folly to feel or to manifest any deep concern 
or anxiety. And yet, at the same time, it would 
be far from them to say, or to think, that religion 
was not true. From the influence of example, 
young men are in great danger of receiving such 
impressions in regard to piety. They know that 
many do look upon religion in this view, who 
would yet be unwilling to be regarded as disbe- 
lievers ; and from a mere imitation of them, or 
perhaps from a wish to manifest that bold and 
independent spirit of which I have already spok- 
en, they also will regard religion in this light. 
My friends, reason will teach you, that, if religion 
is true, he who takes the deepest interest in it is 
the most truly wise and prudent. If there be a 
future world, compared to which this is but as 
a drop of water to the ocean, he who is deep- 
ly concerned for his welfare in that world is 
most truly deserving the name of reasonable. If 
there be a God, who has us at his disposal, 
who can do with us as he pleases, and who has 
required of us certain duties and certain charac- 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



183 



ters, the possession of his approval must be ac- 
knowledged to be infinitely more important than 
any human praise, and we ought to risk ev- 
ery thing rather than not attain it. And as a 
friend, earnest for your good, I would exhort you 
not to look upon religious anxiety and concern 
in this false light, but to feel that it is the only 
reasonable state of mind in regard to religion, 
and that they who show no concern for their 
souls' salvation are like madmen dancing and 
revelling in the flames of their own habitations. 

III. You are in danger of being contaminated 
by that levity of conversation in which some per- 
sons indulge upon religious subjects. There are 
many, who, if an opportunity offers to display 
their wit, will not scruple to embrace it, even at 
the expense of every thing which is sacred, and 
which ought to call forth reverence. They ap- 
pear often to select religious subjects for the ut- 
terance of trifling remarks, perhaps not with the 
intention of wounding the feelings of others, per- 
haps not with the express design of bringing 
contempt or ridicule upon religion itself. Yet 
such is the effect of their levity ; such are the 
sad consequences to which it most commonly 
leads. Such persons must be utterly destitute 
themselves of all seriousness in religion, and they 
exert a mighty influence to prevent others from 



184 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



taking any interest in it. And many, who once 
looked with deep reverence upon religion, and 
admired its sublimity, even if its spirit did not 
truly enter and sway their hearts, have been thus 
led to care nothing for its requirements. There 
are those who have been educated in a rev- 
erence for religion, and who, by the example 
which they saw before them at home, have been 
led, uniformly, to look upon the sacred declara- 
tions of the Saviour, and upon the history of 
his devotedness to man, with the deepest awe. 
They go forth from the paternal roof and mingle 
with the world. Imagine their feelings when 
they first hear religion spoken of with levity. 
Their whole souls receive a shock. They won- 
der at the infatuation of men. They are aston- 
ished that any person can thus treat the revela- 
tion of the omnipotent God. But these feelings 
of horror at the profanation of sacred subjects 
do not continue long. The habit of hearing 
them spoken of in this light manner very soon 
renders the mind indifferent, and disposes it grad- 
ually to imitation. And thus the young man, 
who came into the busy scenes of society with 
his heart impressed with the solemnity of reli- 
gion, soon learns not only to regard it without 
reverence, but to turn its unspeakably important 
concerns into ridicule. I ask, is not this the 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



185 



process through which many a mind has passed, 
until it has become hardened and deadened to 
every serious impression, until it has cast off ev- # 
ery restraint, and at length entirely alienated it- 
self from all that connects the soul of man with 
the spiritual world ? 

I would, then, call upon you, my friends, not to 
suffer these influences to gain a power over your 
minds. Keep yourselves free from their wither- 
ing, blighting effects. Look, I beseech you, up- 
on those things which make religion solemn, and 
beware how you permit the levity of the thought- 
less to destroy your reverence for God's commu- 
nications to sinful man. And you, who some- 
times speak of religion and religious things with 
levity, if you have done it thoughtlessly, consid- 
er how you are degrading one of the most sub- 
lime subjects upon which the human mind can 
dwell. You may be causing others to offend. 
You may be undermining the religious princi- 
ples of those who hear you, and giving tempta- 
tion a power over them which their enfeebled 
minds cannot resist. O, beware of the ruin you 
may bring upon the soul ! — for it may be through 
your levity that some soul shall sink to ruin 
without remedy. 

I V. Another danger of which I would wish you 
to beware is, that of confounding the injudicious 



186 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



or sinful conduct of professors of religion with re- 
ligion itself, and thus transferring to religion the 
contempt or aversion which their extravagances 
or sins deserve. The misconduct of those who 
profess to be guided by religion has done far 
more injury to the cause of Christian holiness 
than all the open attacks of its avowed enemies. 
And its severest wounds have been inflicted, not 
by the undisguised or the more insidious attacks 
of those who wished to injure it, but by those 
who considered themselves its friends. When 
men have seen professedly religious persons per- 
secuting each other with all the violence of party 
animosity, erecting the gibbet, and kindling the 
fire at the stake, for those who thought different- 
ly from themselves, — when they have seen them 
filled with bigotry and hatred against their fel- 
low-men, they have too frequently considered 
religion as the cause of all this wickedness. And 
when persons witness the misguided zeal or inju- 
dicious remarks of religious people, instead of 
blaming only those who are thus doing dishonor 
to religion, they begin to feel a contempt for re- 
ligion itself. My friends, I believe that this is a 
danger to which you are peculiarly exposed. I 
fear that at this time there is a very strong ten- 
dency to refer the extravagance of religious per- 
sons to the religion of Jesus. But is this right ? 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



187 



Would it be right to ridicule or think lightly of 
patriotism, because some have been very extrav- 
agant or even insincere in their professions of it ? 
Is it right to disregard the claims of benevo- 
lence, because some men have made great pre- 
tensions to it, for the sake of gaining the ap- 
plause of others? I beseech you, then, consider 
that religion itself is not chargeable with the 
follies or extravagances of religious persons. 
However they may act, religion is not made 
thereby of less importance, nor is it the less deep- 
ly the concern of every individual. That our re- 
ligion itself came from God, — O, do not forget 
this solemn truth, because men have forgotten or 
disregarded it ! 

V. The last danger of which I would speak is 
that of thinking that attention to religion is well 
enough for some persons, if they feel it their duty, 
but that it is not of any personal importance to 
you. There are many young men of correct 
moral habits, who have a respect for religion when 
they believe it to dwell sincerely in the hearts 
of others, who never think of its importance to 
themselves. And how is it that you do not re- 
gard it as important to you ? Do you say that you 
do not feel it to be your duty to be religious ? But 
is this a reasonable excuse, so long as you have 
taken no pains to ascertain what your duty is ? 



188 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



The persecutor does not believe it to be his duty 
to show mercy to heretics, and therefore he pur- 
sues them with every cruelty. Is he, then, not 
guilty ? Paul, unconverted, thought that he was 
doing God service, when he beat and imprisoned 
the followers of Jesus of Nazareth. Was he, 
therefore, doing right in this cruel persecution ? 
No. It is as much our solemn obligation to take 
heed to ascertain our duties, as it is to discharge 
them when ascertained. The excuse which you 
are offering might be offered in extenuation of 
every kind of wickedness. Or think you, that, 
because other young men are not religious, you 
therefore are the less required to be so ? Because 
others turn away from the warnings of Provi- 
dence and the commands of God, may you with 
impunity neglect them? Does the number of 
those who slight religion render each individual 
less criminal for that neglect ? If you have satis- 
fied yourselves with this excuse, your delusion is 
a most fatal one. Awake from it, before the dark 
hour of death draws near, before it becomes too 
late. Are you too much engrossed in worldly 
amusement to think of religion, and do you wait 
until a more convenient season ? Will that sea- 
son ever come ? Does delay render it more prob- 
able ? Does it fit you for what you are forming 
the habit of neglecting ? Can you look forward 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



189 



with any certainty to a protracted life ? Do you 
know that your end is not now near ? If the 
close of life should come, would you be satisfied 
to leave the world with your present feelings ? 
Bring that hour near to your imagination, which 
cannot in reality be very far distant. Imagine 
that you are, where you must soon be, on the 
bed of death. The pleasures of the world have 
all ceased to interest you. Its pursuits appear 
now to you unimportant and trifling. Religion 
rises up before your mind in all its sublime im- 
portance. You wish that its peace might be 
yours. But you have turned away from it in 
life, and it cannot visit you now. You feel the 
awful presence of God ; but you find no delight 
in the thought of Him who was forgotten by 
you in days of health. The hushed footsteps 
of your attendants, the suppressed whisper, the 
deep sigh, the silent tears of your friends, tell 
you too plainly that you must soon go away. 
Prepared or not, you must go. Whether you 
loved or despised religion, you must go. There 
is no reprieve. O, think of that hour ! Think 
of it, until you resolve that it shall come to 
you in peace and hope. O, my friends, I would 
that I could scatter the delusions which now 
blind you to your happiness ! O, that I could see 
you giving your hearts to God, overcoming the 



190 



TO YOUNG MEN. 



dangers to which you are exposed, and walking 
in the paths of piety and peace ! Must all these 
warnings be in vain ? O, listen, listen to the love 
of God ! Yield to the affection of Jesus, and 
become his true disciples ! 



SERMON IX. 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 

JUDGE NOT ACCORDING TO THE APPEARANCE, BUT JUDGE 
RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. — John vii. 24. 

How frequently, in our judgment of men and 
things about us, do we need to bear this advice 
in mind, to guard ourselves against those fair ap- 
pearances whi:h hide from our view the real 
character ! There has been in the world a great 
deal of wrong, injustice, and cruelty upheld and 
honored, not because men do indeed approve of 
wrong, but because of the false appearances 
which have led them to misjudge. The com- 
mon feeling and conscience would be generally 
right, if not thus deceived. Men revolt against 
barefaced iniquity ; it is only when that iniquity 
is covered up by specious pretences, that they 
lose their horror of it, and perhaps substitute 
therefor feelings of admiration. Strip the acts 
of men of all false appearances, and you would 
expose to just execration and contempt many of 



192 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



those deeds and events, which now, perhaps, are 
passed by without a word of censure, or which 
awaken applause. The world presents number- 
less instances in illustration of this. Sometimes 
riches and high station will blind the consciences 
of men to the enormity of actions, which, stripped 
of these circumstances, and considered as per- 
formed by poor and mean men, would excite ex- 
ecration. Sometimes base actions will pass un- 
rebnked, because they are sheltered under the 
plea of noble and commendable motives. Some- 
times the horror which crime would awaken is 
changed into admiration at the exhibition of 
some few noble qualities manifested in connec- 
tion with the crime, and these noble qualities are 
so dexterously managed as to keep in the shade 
all that is more vile and revolting. In these and 
a variety of ways do those, whose interest it is to 
blind the multitude of honest men, make evil 
appear good. It would be amusing, if it were not 
so melancholy, to see how frequently, through 
popularity or the influence of wealth or of cus- 
tom, deeds become honorable, which, stripped of 
their vain show, would be universally condemned. 
It teaches us the weakness of human judgment, 
and the necessity of looking at things as they are, 
not as they are presented to us. 

Let us look at a few instances in which this 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 193 

delusion appears. A poor man, impelled by want, 
pilfers money or provision from a neighbour, and 
is detected. The community are struck with 
horror at the enormity of the crime, and, deem- 
ing it unsafe for the public that he should be at 
large, lest he do further injury, and as a warning 
to others that they commit not the same offence, 
they cast him into prison. In this case the hein- 
ousness of crime is rightly appreciated. But 
here is a rich man, who is, perhaps, at the head 
of some large moneyed institution, and so man- 
ages the affairs which have been intrusted to his 
charge, as to impoverish hundreds of others, while 
he secures for himself abundant wealth. Though 
you hear a few clamors at the mischief he has 
caused, you hear very little horror expressed at 
the crime he has committed He is suffered 
to walk abroad and enjoy his ill-gotten gains, 
and receive the smiles and blandishments of 
those who cringe to wealth more than they 
hate dishonesty. And that man still holds his 
rank in society. Here, too, is a nation, which, 
that it may extend its power or increase its ter- 
ritory, acts the part of an oppressor to a people 
that are unable to resist its encroachments, 
and by violence or intrigue succeeds in depriv- 
ing that people of their rights or their territory. 
And men raise the shout of congratulation for 
13 



194 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



this nation's victories, and give it much credit 
for its success and its perseverance, instead of 
what you might expect to hear, one univer- 
sal voice of condemnation and stern reproach. 
Now in these cases, the wrong, the crime, is 
just the same. Why, then, is it so differently 
regarded ? In one case, it was committed by 
a poor man, who has not the skill to hide his 
villany under specious names, and to gloss it 
over with fair pretences, and so he surfers the 
weight of public indignation. But wealth, and 
power, and popularity are all put in requisition 
to hide villany in the other cases ; and men's 
eyes are so dazzled by money or by honor, that 
they are blinded to crime. Now, if we felt as 
we ought, the higher in authority and influ- 
ence and wealth the criminal might be, the more 
deep would be our indignation at his crime ; 
while the poor and suffering, who commit 
crime, would receive from us deeper commis- 
eration, instead of bearing, as they now do, the 
heaviest public abhorrence and condemnation. 
This would be, indeed, righteous judgment, not 
judgment from mere external appearance. 

Let us look at another example. Two prize- 
fighters, spurred on by the love of fame and 
the love of money, go out, attended by large 
multitudes of the degraded population of their 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



195 



city, to fight each other. Hour after hour, 
they continue their inhuman, infernal work of 
bruising and mangling each other, urged on by 
those who bet upon their respective vigor and 
skill, and by the fear of being called cowards, 
until, after exhibiting all the ferocity of bull- 
dogs in their bloody conflict, one of them falls 
to rise no more. When the horribly disgusting 
details of this deliberate murder are spread out 
before the public, the outrage awakens gen- 
eral indignation, and officers of justice are on 
the alert to apprehend and bring to trial the 
authors and abettors of the bloody tragedy. The 
crime awakens the horror and disgust which it 
really ought ; for it lies before us in all its naked 
deformity. Contrast with this another affair. 
Two leading politicians, one of them honored 
with a seat in Congress, through some provoca- 
tion . arising from the utterance of unfriendly 
words, leave their post of duty, cast aside all 
considerations of conscience, of the law of God 
and the law of man, all claims of kindred, all 
the dictates of humanity, and go out with the 
deliberate purpose and desire to take each oth- 
er's lives. Their purpose of murder is frustrat- 
ed ; but, in the eye of God, that does not make 
their guilt less than if one or both had fallen. 
They return to their posts, and are greeted, 



196 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



and welcomed, and honored. Not one word 
of stern rebuke is uttered against their crime. 
Nor does that violated law, which speaks in 
tones of thunder to the degraded and the poor 
transgressor, raise a whisper of reproach, or lift 
a finger to punish this crime. Now the crime 
in both these cases is alike ; the guilt is cer- 
tainly not less in the latter than in the for- 
mer case. But how differently are they treat- 
ed ! Why is this ? In the one case, the crim- 
inals were among the low and vile in society, 
and used only the weapons which nature gave 
them. In the other, they are honorable men, 
fine gentlemen, their whole proceeding is strict- 
ly in accordance with gentlemanly usages, and 
their weapon is only the murderous pistol. 
And thus, by the specious pretence of the law 
of honor, and under fair names, the foul crime 
is cloaked. Shame on the moral principle of 
the community, which will suffer the duel- 
list to stand up with unblushing front in the 
highest ranks of society, while it condemns 
the common prize-fighter to the ignominy and 
loathsome disgust which he deserves ! Shame 
on the want of consistency and moral courage 
which is here manifested ! If we felt as with 
republican institutions we ought to feel, such 
offenders against humanity and against divine 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



197 



and human law would not venture to show their 
heads. But now the crime is all glossed over 
with the plea of honor. 

Let. us come a little nearer home. Last Sun- 
day afternoon, while many of us were bowing 
here in worship, and while Nature, in her still- 
ness and loveliness, seemed to rebuke all human 
passion on that hallowed day, a deed was done 
which thrilled our souls with horror. A fellow- 
citizen was cruelly assaulted by an enraged man, 
and before the morning sun arose he slept the 
sleep of death, a victim to the fury of ungodly 
passions. This deed awakens the abhorrence 
which its enormity deserves ; for we see it in 
its plain, unvarnished deformity, and without 
any of those circumstances that warp the judg- 
ment and pervert the conscience. We judge 
concerning it righteous judgment. But the 
governments of two great nations, because they 
cannot amicably settle some dispute about a 
mere trifle, an insult to a flag, the payment of 
a debt, the proprietorship of a strip of wild land, 
or the like, will rush into deadly war ; they will 
use all their influence to lash to the utmost fury 
all the angry passions of their citizens. They 
will put weapons into their hands, and then set 
them on, like tigers in ancient combats, to tear 
each others' throats. Commerce is destroyed ; 



198 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



all the arts of peaceful life are crippled ; the 
sanctity of thousands of homes is invaded ; and 
husbands and sons, brothers and fathers, are torn 
from those who lean on them for protection, to 
pillage and murder other husbands and sons, 
brothers and fathers, against whom they have no 
quarrel in the world, merely because their re- 
spective governments demand it of them. And 
thus a load of untold misery and crime lies up- 
on their heads. Yet the movers in all this 
mischief, the chief abettors of these enormous 
crimes, instead of being execrated for all the 
misery they cause, are applauded and honored 
as the noblest of their race, and history em- 
blazons their deeds, and hands down to posterity 
their names, as higher and worthier of remem- 
brance than the names of those whose science, 
enterprise, or virtue, has enlightened and blessed 
their generation. Now whence this difference 
in men's judgment of things? Whence is it, 
that one murder makes a villain, thousands a 
hero ? In the one case, we see crime in its 
naked deformity ; in the other, that deformity is 
covered up with the plea of honor, or patriot- 
ism, or national glory ; and the one voice that 
would condemn the crime is lost in the thou- 
sand that shout the praises of the conqueror. 
O, when will men learn to strip the bloody de- 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



199 



mon of war of all his false and showy appear- 
ance, and see him in his hideous deformity and 
his unmitigated cruelty ? Our nation needs 
many lessons on this subject. We have been 
several times upon the brink of war, and for the 
most trifling causes too, — once because a debt 
of a few millions was not paid when we expect- 
ed it, once on account of a strip of land. There 
were many who shrank from the evils of such 
wafs, exceeding as they did, beyond al] compar- 
ison, the evils to be redressed. But how few 
of us looked upon the expected conflict as an 
enormous crime ! How few raised the voice 
of condemnation against its awful guilt ! And 
yet, if it be right to settle national differences 
by appeal to arms, it is right to settle personal 
differences in the same way. Murder is quite as 
justifiable in the one case as in the other. Why 
do we not open our eyes and see this ? Why 
will we submit to be blinded, and cajoled, and 
made agents and applauders of wrong, at the 
bidding of statesmen and politicians ? Why will 
we be blinded to the reality of things by vain 
appearances ? 

It has been the policy of rulers to blind men 
to the criminality of any course which they 
wished to have pursued for their own interest 
or glory. I could not help thinking of this, as 



200 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



I stood, the other day, gazing upon the beautiful 
pagantry of the military parade. It seemed to 
me that I there saw another illustration of the 
attempt to hide the horrid features of an enor- 
mous evil under fair and attractive appearances. 
The question occurred to me, while looking at 
the gorgeous apparel and bright array, What is 
all this for ? Is it for mere amusement, or is 
there some serious purpose in it ? And I could 
not avoid the conclusion, that it is for the pur- 
pose of covering up the real horrors of war, and 
making it appear an honorable and glorious way 
of settling national differences. If men went 
forth to the work of human butchery like exe- 
cutioners to their horrid task, they would see 
the enormity of the crime. But every thing 
that can fascinate the senses is adopted to cover 
up the evil. Rich dresses, inspiring music, and 
all the pomp and parade which can be intro- 
duced, are sedulously sought for, to make the 
business appear honorable and glorious ; and 
thousands upon thousands have been deceived 
by these vain appearances, and have gone will- 
ing victims upon the altar of human ambi- 
tion. Every humane heart has rejoiced at the 
late peaceful and easy settlement of the boun- 
dary question, which, at one time, threatened to 
involve two great nations in all the miseries 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



201 



of war. And yet, at a late military review in 
a neighbouring State, the governor openly de- 
clared, after praising the appearance of his troops, 
that, with such a body of men, he could have set- 
tled that question much better, — that is, it would 
have been better to plunge two of the greatest 
nations on earth into all the crimes and sorrows 
incident to a condition of war, to waste enor- 
mous sums of money, to shed seas of blood, to 
bring sorrow, and desolation, and woe into thou- 
sands of peaceful homes, for the sake of a few 
square miles of wild land, than to come amica- 
bly and peacefully to a settlement by a few 
mutual concessions ! It seems to me, that it is 
only when the war-spirit is stirred up in men's 
hearts by the fascination of parade and music, 
that such a sentiment could be uttered or toler- 
ated. Men must first blind themselves to sin 
by fascinating appearances, before they can be 
willing to make, or calmly to hear, such decla- 
rations. 

And here, to my mind, lies the chief objection 
to these military displays. They foster and keep 
alive the war-spirit in our hearts. Other objec- 
tions to them are very obvious and quite suffi- 
cient. They occasion a great waste of time 
and of money. They draw together and insti- 
gate to sin all the more corrupt and depraved 



202 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



portion of a community. They present tempt- 
ing occasions for gambling, drinking, quarrelling, 
and all the other gross forms of vicious indul- 
gence, and lure into scenes of riot and debauch- 
ery many who might, otherwise, be blame- 
lessly and happily engaged in useful labor or 
innocent amusement. All these objections must 
have presented themselves forcibly to your minds 
on a late occasion. But here is an objection 
that goes deeper. It goes to the very object 
and purpose of such parades. That purpose is, 
as I have said, to nourish the war-spirit, to make 
war esteemed an honorable and a glorious meth- 
od of settling national differences. I do not 
here enter into the question of the propriety of 
wars strictly defensive. That is a totally dis- 
tinct question. But, granting their propriety, 
granting the necessity of being prepared for 
such melancholy occasions, I say that the al- 
leged necessity is a very sad necessity, and 
as sad as the supposed necessity for the public 
execution of criminals. And it ought to be 
prepared for, if prepare for it we must, with as 
sad feelings as we prepare to execute the heav- 
iest sentence of the law upon those whom the 
community say it is unsafe to let live. You 
would not think it proper to dress up an exe- 
cutioner in showy apparel, and to parade the 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 203 

instruments of torture and of death, so as to 
make the business of executing criminals an 
attractive and delightful employment. No ; your 
own feelings would prompt you to divest the 
business of an executioner of every thing at- 
tractive, and to make the execution of criminals 
seem as melancholy and sad as it really is. If 
we only had the same feelings in regard to the 
sad necessity of war, we should try to divest 
that of every thing attractive, and there would 
then, doubtless, be far less willingness to come 
to this last resort. It would be deemed infinitely 
more glorious, by mutual concessions, to preserve 
peace, than to carry on the most successful war- 
fare ever engaged in. The time will come, I 
believe, when those, who by their wisdom and 
forbearance avert the evils of war from a coun- 
try, will be more honored than the mightiest 
warriors who have reduced nations to their sway. 
The peacemaker will be pronounced the blessed 
one by the voice of man as well as by that of 
God. 

I have freely uttered the convictions of my 
own heart. They may not agree with the con- 
victions and feelings of many among you. But 
I wish you to weigh them well. If they be 
not sound, reject them. If they be sound, adopt 
them, though against all former prejudices and 



204 



RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENT. 



opinions. And in these matters which I have 
brought to your notice, and in all other matters, 
I beseech you to judge not according to the ap- 
pearance, but to judge righteous judgment. 



SERMON X. 



AMUSEMENTS. 

DOING THE WILL OF GOD FROM THE HEART. — EphesiailS, vi. 6. 

The religion of Jesus aims at an entire control 
over us. We are permitted to take no other 
standard but the will of God. It is not only in 
great things, but in small also, that we are bound 
to inquire what is right. It is not only in busi- 
ness but in pleasure, not only in solitude but in 
society, not only in adversity but in prosperity, 
that we are bound to find out what our duty is, 
and faithfully and resolutely to adhere to it. No 
matter what obstacles may oppose, no matter what 
evil habits call for gratification, no matter what 
customs society may sanction, our great inquiry 
should be, What is right ? What is our duty ? Our 
firm resolve should be to follow the path which 
God marks out. There is a right way and a 
wrong way in every thing. There is virtue and 
holiness, or there is vice and sin, in all our ac- 
tions. We must take most diligent heed, then, 



206 



AMUSEMENTS. 



what course we adopt. — I have said, that we 
must inquire what is right, what is the will of 
God, in regard to our pleasures. To this point I 
wish to direct your attention. My remarks will 
have special reference to the young ; though I 
trust they may not be without profit to all. 
What, then, is the will of God, or, in other 
words, what is the course of duty, in regard to 
amusement, recreation ? 

And here I would first notice two opposite 
extremes into which men have fallen, in relation 
to amusements. There have been some, who 
have condemned them altogether, who have de- 
manded that people should be engaged only in 
labor or in study, and that they should give no 
time to recreation, none to any kind of amuse- 
ment. They say that we ought to learn to 
find our pleasure in our duty, and so we ought; 
but perhaps other pleasures which unbend the 
mind may be allowed beside. This they deny. 
These they prohibit. This class of persons, 
I believe, is very small. Perhaps some may 
imagine that all religious persons think so, and 
that, if they become religious, they must give up 
all their amusements. If any think so, I believe 
that they labor under a great mistake. The 
opinion, that all amusements are wrong, I judge 
to be erroneous, both from the nature God has 



AMUSEMENTS. 



207 



given us, and from the condition in which he 
has placed us. First, from the nature he has giv- 
en us. He has so constituted us, that the unre- 
laxed attention of the mind to severe labor and 
to serious thought will sooner or later injure 
its powers, and cramp and weaken its energies. 
He has so constituted us, that we all need some 
seasons of refreshment from study, or hard exer- 
tion of any kind. And if this is refused, the 
health suffers, the mind loses its elasticity, and 
becomes a mere slave. But if we take proper 
recreation, and engage in the right kind of amuse- 
ments with moderation, we can return to our 
severe exertions invigorated, refreshed, and pre- 
pared to engage in them with greater alacrity and 
fidelity. Again, God teaches us from our condi- 
tion that amusement or recreation is lawful. Does 
he not spread out before us the beauties of nature 
to give us gratification ? At this season of the 
year, when every thing seems bursting into life 
and activity, he is teaching us very impressively 
his kind regard, not only for our faithfulness in 
duty, but for our enjoyment. He is surround- 
ing us with all that can minister to our pleasure. 
It would have been sufficient to have put us into 
a world where barely our wants would be sup- 
plied, without any special provision for enjoy- 
ment. But now God has made all our senses 



208 



AMUSEMENTS. 



with the power of deriving pleasurable impress- 
ions from the objects around us, and has suited 
these objects to our enjoyment. The beauty of 
God's works delights the eye; the melody of 
nature charms the ear ; and the bountiful fruits 
of nature gratify the taste. Surely, then, the 
God of nature, who makes such ample provision 
for man's enjoyment, does not wish that he 
should refuse it all. He delights in the pleas- 
ures of his children. 

I have made these remarks in order to show 
my young friends, that religion does not, as 
some have imagined, forbid man's enjoyment, 
and that in becoming religious they do not 
deprive themselves of the privilege of amuse- 
ment and delight from the means which the be- 
nevolent Creator has placed within their reach. 
This opinion is one extreme, into which men 
have fallen on the subject of pleasure. The oth- 
er extreme lies in the practice, rather than the 
opinion, of many, — that is, the making amuse- 
ment the great end of life. There are some per- 
sons who are so unfortunate as to possess prop- 
erty enough to raise them above the necessity of 
laboring with head or hands for their daily sup- 
port, and who spend day after day in a round of 
idle amusement. There are children of such 
parents so unfortunate as to be educated in indo- 



AMUSEMENTS. 



209 



lence, with no necessity for exertion, with no 
labors or studies required of them. I have known 
some such, and I have seen them becoming 
averse to any pursuits which required activity 
and energy, and sinking down into mere drones. 
I have seen them, with naturally bright talents, 
and powers of mind which gave promise of 
much usefulness, become enfeebled and dull, 
and losing all energy of mind or purpose. The 
truth is, that the mind, like the body, needs effort 
and activity, to give it strength. If we wish the 
mind to grow, or even if we would prevent it 
from sinking into a state of imbecility, we must 
task it, we must bend it down to labor of one 
kind or another, or its powers will become en- 
feebled, and we shall degenerate into a merely 
vegetative existence. 

It is evident, then, that this extreme is the 
most injurious, and that it was not the design of 
the Creator, either that man should wholly re- 
nounce the pleasures of life, or that he should 
give himself up entirely to them. To find the 
happy and the right medium between these two 
extremes may be somewhat difficult ; and to lay 
down rules of universal application, by which 
we should be governed, and which will infallibly 
guide us to the attainment of this medium, would 
be quite impossible. But this we can do : — we 
14 



210 



AMUSEMENTS. 



can lay down certain general principles, by which 
to govern ourselves, and which, if we faithfully 
regard them, will save us from much error and 
much consequent unhappiness ; for it is a truth 
which daily observation teaches, that they are 
unhappy, who have nothing to do but to seek 
amusement. To a brief review of some of these 
general principles I would ask your present at- 
tention. 

I first remark, that we should avoid all such 
amusements as would render distasteful or disa- 
greeable a return to the common duties, labors, 
or studies, to which we are called. The great 
and important object of amusement, and one 
reason why it is permitted to us, is, to invigorate 
the mind by recreation, and send it back to its 
severer and more serious duties and exertions 
with an increase of energy, and life, and spirit. 
It is intended to serve the same purpose for the 
mind, which sleep and food accomplish for the 
body ; and as he who indulges in sleep or in 
food to such a degree as to unfit his body for 
labor and active exertion does wrong, so does 
he who produces a similar effect upon the mind 
by amusement, whether by devoting to it too 
much time, or by engaging in improper kinds 
of amusement. Now there are, doubtless, many 
kinds of amusement which have this effect 



AMUSEMENTS. 



211 



upon the mind. They make it unpleasant and 
irksome to return to severe study, or to any regu- 
lar employment or duty. What would have such 
an effect upon one, however, may not upon an- 
other ; and it is, therefore, impossible to designate 
certain kinds of amusement as wrong for all. 
But each one can apply the criterion for himself. 
I would earnestly, then, request all my young 
friends to judge of their amusements by this 
test. You are, perhaps, engaged in studies which 
are important for your mental improvement, 
your usefulness, and your happiness. Attention 
to them, though now deemed by you a matter 
of little consequence, will exert an important in- 
fluence upon the whole future course of your 
lives, making you more happy, more respected, 
more capable of doing good ; while inattention 
to them, though now you esteem it a matter of 
small moment, will injure you in all these 
respects. I need not say to you (for you know 
it already), that, so far as you lose your interest 
in any of your studies, so far a habit of inat- 
tention and carelessness with respect to them will 
be produced, so that your time will run to waste. 
Now, do the amusements in which you indulge 
have this effect upon you ? Do they make you 
less interested in what ought to be your busi- 
ness ? Do they render disgusting or wearisome 



212 



AMUSEMENTS. 



any of your duties ? Does your mind wander 
away from your studies, and dwell so much 
upon these amusements as to make you unfaith- 
ful ? If so, they are wrong, and you ought to 
give them up without any delay. You ought 
immediately to resolve that you will never en- 
gage again in them. If you have not courage 
to do this, you are in an unhappy state of bond- 
age to pleasure. I trust that none of you would 
hesitate ; but that, so soon as you were convinced 
that any amusement was wrong, you would desist 
from it. Inquire, then, into the effect of your 
amusements on your heart. Do you go from 
them to your duties with an increase of activity 
and zeal ? or do you go as a slave would go to 
his work, driven to it, by compulsion, with your 
heart somewhere else ? I hope that each one 
will apply these remarks personally, and will act 
accordingly. And be assured, that, if, from obe- 
dience to conscience, you do renounce any 
amusement, you improve thereby your charac- 
ter ; for the highest improvement which man 
can make is by subjecting the inclinations to 
conscience and the will of God. 

II. We should avoid all those amusements 
which render solitude irksome to us, and which 
make us wish to be always in company. God has 
given to us social natures. He has so created 



AMUSEMENTS. 



213 



us, that the society of others promotes our im- 
provement and our happiness. So much does 
man love society, that the severest punishment 
which can be inflicted upon him is solitary con- 
finement. Place a man in such a condition, and 
he will generally pine away. God, therefore, by 
our natures, designed us for social intercourse ; 
and our happiness, and even our usefulness, 
are in a great measure dependent upon the 
proper exercise of our social dispositions. But 
useful as social intercourse is, solitude has its 
uses, and equally important ones. The person 
who is never alone, who loves not the com- 
munion of his own thoughts, who does not feel 
at ease and has no enjoyment unless he be with 
company, forfeits some of the most important of 
life's benefits. He does not know himself. He 
is not qualified for important usefulness. He 
cannot know God, or have any right apprehen- 
sion of the purposes and objects of life. For 
all these things require close, serious thought. 
They require communion with our own hearts. 
They require solitary meditation. Now, most 
amusements are of a social kind. They are 
partaken in company with others. And they do 
good thus, not only by giving new spirit and 
energy to the mind, but by calling forth and 
cultivating social feelings and affections. But 



214 



AMUSEMENTS. 



there are some amusements which have a ten- 
dency to engross the thoughts so much as to 
make solitude irksome. It is painful to many- 
seekers of pleasure to be left alone with them- 
selves and with their God. Now, let me entreat 
you seriously to consider your habitual amuse- 
ments in this light, and to inquire what is 
their effect. After you have been engaged in 
them, is solitude rendered irksome and unpleas- 
ant, or can you go from them to the privacy of 
your own hearts and be happy ? Be assured 
that you never can attain any excellence, if 
you do not love to be alone. By impartially 
inquiring into the effect which your favorite 
amusements have upon you, you may learn 
whether they are of an innocent kind or other- 
wise. And I trust, that, if convinced that they 
are not innocent, you will have the moral firm- 
ness and strength of mind to give them up. If 
you have not, I pity you for letting inclination 
become the master of your conscience. 

III. We should avoid those amusements by 
partaking of which we encourage any persons to 
continue in a course of life which is sinful or 
which exposes them to strong temptations. Of 
this class I consider theatrical amusements. My 
great objection to them is, that they encourage 
people in a mode of life which exposes them to 



AMUSEMENTS. 



215 



moral danger. We may ourselves be thereby ex- 
posed to contamination, and then surely it cannot 
be innocent for us to engage in such amusements. 
But suppose that we feel strong against such an 
influence. Suppose that there were nothing of an 
immoral tendency in stage representations, or in 
any of the accompaniments of a theatre. Still, 
the life of the actor is one of great moral danger, 
of danger which few pass through virtuously ; 
and if I attend such exhibitions, I offer an in- 
ducement to him to continue in this mode of 
life. This same remark will apply to many 
other species of amusement, and ought to be 
more strictly applied than it is. For we have 
no right, for our own gratification, to offer an 
inducement to another to live in sin, or to expose 
himself to strong temptation. 

IV. We should avoid amusements which may 
give us false views of life, excite romantic expec- 
tations, and thereby render us dissatisfied with 
our condition or common employments. I have 
partly considered this point before ; but I refer 
to it now, in order to offer some remarks upon 
books. A very common amusement and recrea- 
tion is the reading of novels and other works of 
fiction. To such a degree is this amusement 
sometimes carried, as to make us forget and 
neglect all our important duties, and live, as 



216 



AMUSEMENTS. 



it were, in the dreamy world of our own imag- 
ination. Now, I am not going to condemn all 
works of fiction ; for I do not think them all 
worthy of condemnation. I am not going to 
say that it is wrong for every one to read a 
novel. But I do say that most of such works 
present distorted views of life, excite unfounded 
expectations, give false ideas of what is desira- 
ble and praiseworthy, gloss over vices with the 
names of virtues, and make us return from the 
world of imagination, which they have opened 
before us, to the realities of life, to find them dull 
and gloomy. I have known many young per- 
sons, by the formation of this habit, so affected, 
that study would be neglected, common duties 
appear irksome, the most extravagant and ill- 
founded notions and opinions be formed in the 
mind, and great unhappiness produced. And 
yet, so fascinated does the mind become with such 
writings, that it will return to them with some- 
thing of the same kind of feeling with which 
the intemperate man returns to his drink. There 
is an inebriation of mind created by novel-read- 
ing. The strong love of excitement craves con- 
stant gratification, and gratification of it only 
increases the evil. If I now address any young 
persons who are forming this habit, I would en- 
treat them to pause, and ask themselves whether 



AMUSEMENTS. 



217 



it is right or wrong. I would ask them, With 
what feeling do yon go about your daily em- 
ployments or studies ? Do those fictions which 
you read make you dissatisfied with more useful 
reading and with the real duties of life ? If so, 
I entreat you to break off entirely from the 
books to which you have addicted your minds, 
and to satisfy yourselves with works of an in- 
structive character. You will find this very 
hard, at first. They will seem very tame and 
uninteresting to your taste, depraved as it has 
been by fiction. But this should only make 
you more careful. It should open your eyes 
to the danger you are incurring of injuring 
your mind and heart. But you will soon be 
rewarded for your self-denial. You will begin 
to find, that, the more other books are read, the 
more will they impart strength and vigor to the 
mind. You will find that there will be a satis- 
faction, a healthful consciousness in the mind, 
strikingly contrasted with the sickly and senti- 
mental feeling which you now experience. I 
trust that you will make these inquiries into the 
character and tendency of the books which you 
read, and that you will have the firmness to 
renounce all such as can do you any injury. 
There are books enough within your reach, 
which unite useful instruction with pleasure; 



218 



AMUSEMENTS. 



which give a healthful excitement to the mind, 
and pure feelings and desires to the heart. God 
has opened before you the great book of nature. 
Wander forth among its beauties. They will 
impart a calm and pure joy, such as the lover 
of fiction never has experienced. 

V. We should, finally, avoid all such amuse- 
ments as do not make us more grateful to God. 
God loves to see us happy. He ministers abund- 
antly to our happiness ; and it is a dictate of 
nature, of reason, and of revelation, that we 
should receive with gratitude all the blessings 
he gives, and that we should render him our 
sincere thanks for them all. Now, in our pleas- 
ures and enjoyments, we should not forget Him 
who has provided us with them, but should 
connect the thought of his goodness and love 
with all that he permits us to enjoy. There 
are many of our amusements in which we can 
do this with perfect propriety and consistency. 
They do us good. They promote our temporal 
and spiritual welfare. But there are some in 
which we may engage, in which the very 
thought of thanking God for them appears 
grossly irrelevant ; some which seem so to ex- 
clude the remembrance of him, that, while 
we were engaged in them, the thought of an 
omnipresent, all-seeing God would cast a gloom 



AMUSEMENTS. 



219 



over our hearts. Now, need I say that such 
amusements cannot be innocent ? I entreat you, 
my friends, to think of these things in your 
amusements, and to judge of them by this test. 
Can you be made, and are you made, more 
grateful to God, while you partake of the pleas- 
ures he has given you ? If you cannot, then 
remember that they are not innocent ; and I 
trust that you will have virtue and firmness 
enough to renounce them. 

I have spoken upon a subject which I feel 
has a very important bearing upon the happiness 
and welfare of many, particularly among the 
young. I have presented a few considerations, 
which, if borne in mind, would, I believe, guard 
you against many of the moral dangers by 
which you are surrounded. Let these consider- 
ations awaken reflection and self-examination ; 
and may you act in conformity with them. 
From God you have your gifts of mind and 
heart. I beseech you to feel your accountability 
to him, and to make it your endeavour in all 
things to do the will of God from the heart. 



SERMON XL 



THE ATONEMENT. 

BY WHOM WE HAVE NOW RECEIVED THE ATONEMENT. 

Romans, v. 11. 

The subject of this discourse is the Atone- 
ment. In considering it, our attention will be 
chiefly directed to the three following inquiries : 
What is meant by the Atonement ? By whom 
is it effected ? In what manner is it effected ? 
May He, who seeks to lead the minds of his 
children into all truth, so assist us in our pres- 
ent meditation, that we may reject whatever is 
contrary to his revealed will, and attain to cor- 
rect, distinct, and practical views upon the im- 
portant doctrine which we are about to examine ! 

Our first inquiry is, What is the Atonement ? 
The most common signification assigned to this 
term, and that which it actually has at the 
present day, is satisfaction for injuries. If I 
have done injury to any one, or given him 
offence in any way, and I afterwards make some 



THE ATONEMENT. 



221 



reparation or satisfaction for that injury, I am 
said to make an atonement for it ; and, without 
inquiry or reflection, men have supposed that 
that was the meaning of the term in Scripture. 
But is this its meaning in the New Testament ? 
The words of the text, which, be it remem- 
bered, is the only passage in the New Testa- 
ment where the word is found, expressly teach 
that this is not its meaning. In the text we 
are said to receive the atonement. But if it 
meant reparation, satisfaction, it would be God 
who received it, not man. When two parties 
are at variance, the offending party, or some 
one on his behalf, makes atonement, and the 
party offended or injured receives it. But the 
text says that we, the offending party, receive it. 
The expression, then, cannot have the signifi- 
cation which is usually given to it at the pres- 
ent day. The true meaning of the word is rec- 
onciliation. And this was its meaning at the pe- 
riod when our translation of the Bible was made. 
When two parties who had been at variance 
were reconciled, they were said to be at one. 
And this reconciliation was called at-one-ment, 
or, as we now pronounce it, atonement. In- 
stances might be given, were this the proper 
place, from English authors, who wrote about 
the time our translation was made, to show that 



222 



THE ATONEMENT. 



the word was then employed in this sense ; and 
in this sense the translators of our Bible un- 
doubtedly employed it. I might multiply au- 
thorities also to show, that in this passage, the 
only one where the word is employed, it is 
used in this sense of reconciliation. I will re- 
fer, however, only to two of unquestionable 
authority. Doddridge, an eminent Calvinistic 
expositor of the New Testament, explains it to 
mean reconciliation ; and Barnes, a distinguished 
Presbyterian writer of our own country, says, in 
reference to this passage, "It means the reconcili- 
ation itself between God and man." " This/' he 
adds, " was the ancient meaning of the English 
word atonement, at-one-ment, — being at one or 
reconciled.'' I have said that this passage is the 
only one in which the word atonement is em- 
ployed. But the word corresponding to it in 
the original Greek is frequently used ; and in 
every other case it has been translated recon- 
ciliation. Thus we read of " the ministry of 
reconciliation," " the word of reconciliation." 
And in every instance in which we find the 
words reconcile, reconciliation, the word in 
the original Greek is precisely the same as what 
is here translated atonement. Let it be well 
understood, then, that this is the only passage 
in the New Testament, where the word atone- 



THE ATONEMENT. 



223 



merit is used, and that here it confessedly does 
not have the signification given to it in modem 
creeds and theological systems, but that its 
meaning is reconciliation. 

Our next inquiry is, By whom is this atone- 
ment effected ? The Scriptures ascribe it to 
Jesus Christ, in all his various offices and rela- 
tions to man. They represent it as the great 
purpose of his coming into the world. It was 
the whole burden of his preaching, and the sub- 
lime object which he seems ever to have had 
in view. And as it was his purpose, so it was 
the design of the Apostles' preaching and in- 
struction. As the great truth which they pro- 
claimed, wherever they went, was, that Jesus is 
the Son of God, so the great duty which they 
urged was, that men should be reconciled to 
God. Their ministry they called " the minis- 
try of reconciliation " ; the substance of their 
preaching they expressed as "the word of re- 
conciliation. They tell us that " God was in [or 
through] Christ reconciling the world unto him- 
self." And in the passage from which our text 
is taken, Paul says, " We joy in God, through 
our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now 
received the atonement," or reconciliation. But 
in a more especial manner is this reconciliation 
spoken of as effected by the death of Christ. 



224 



THE ATONEMENT. 



Paul says, " If, when we were enemies, we 
were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, 
much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved 
by his life." And there is unquestionably a 
power and efficacy attributed in Scripture to the 
death of Christ, in the accomplishment of the 
great purpose of his mission, such as is ascribed 
to no other action or event in his history. Here, 
then, we see that the atonement or reconciliation 
is effected by Jesus Christ ; and that, in effecting 
it, his death was one of the most important 
means, — not the only means, for it was the 
purpose of his whole ministry, — still, a very 
important means. 

Thus far I believe that all Christians are 
agreed, as to the fact of the atonement, and that 
it was effected by Jesus Christ. But when we 
come to the explanation of that fact, when we 
ask, How is it effected ? In what manner is 
it brought about ? we enter upon controverted 
ground. And this is our third inquiry. In what 
manner is this atonement, this reconciliation, ef- 
fected ? While pursuing it, may all our minds be 
open to the influence of truth. May we feel that 
we have no right to ask what this man or that 
man, or this or that sect, however numerous and 
influential, has believed, but only, What is the 
truth ? And may we all ask this question here 



THE ATONEMENT. 225 

with impartial minds, ready to receive whatever 
truth may shine forth out of God's holy word. 

It has been maintained that the atonement is 
effected by Jesus' removing the anger of God, 
producing a change in his feelings toward man, 
and making him willing to pardon the sinner. 
According to this theory, so deep was the de- 
pravity of the human heart, that God looke.d 
upon man only with an eye of anger, — that he 
felt so deep indignation against him as to be 
unwilling to forgive him. In this emergency, 
when everlasting ruin spread over the prospects 
of man, when every hope seemed shut out and 
every refuge closed, the Son of God, moved with 
compassion toward the guilty race, voluntarily 
offered himself as a substitute for man, and by 
his sufferings and death appeased the anger of 
an offended Deity, and thus brought about a 
reconciliation between him and his sinful crea- 
tures. But to this view I have several objec- 
tions, a few of which I will now state, and any 
one of which would be sufficient to make me 
reject it. 

And first, I would reject this doctrine, because 
the Scriptures never speak as if, by any thing 
Christ had done, God was reconciled to man, 
but, on the contrary, they declare that Jesus came 
to reconcile man to God. This is an important 
15 



226 THE ATONEMENT. 

consideration, and one not sufficiently borne in 
mind. The whole tenor of the language of our 
Saviour and the Apostles is, not that God was to 
be reconciled to man, but man to God. Paul 
says, " God was in Christ reconciling the world 
unto himself." "When we were enemies, we 
were reconciled to God by the death of his 
Son." "God hath reconciled us to himself by 
Jesus Christ." " We pray you in Christ's stead, 
be ye reconciled to God." Peter also says, 
" Christ hath once suffered for sins, the just for 
the unjust." Why ? " That he might bring us 
to God." According to these passages of Scrip- 
ture, — and numerous others of similar import 
might be adduced, — the reconciliation was to 
take place on the part of man to God, not on 
the part of God toward man. Man had become 
the enemy of God's law. He had gone astray 
from his best friend. The object of our Saviour 
was, not to exert an influence upon the feelings 
of God, but upon the heart of man, — to recon- 
cile man to God, not God to man. 

But I reject the explanation of atonement 
alluded to on another ground, namely, that the 
love of God, so far from being the effect of onr 
Saviour's mission and death, was the cause of it. 
Upon this point the Scriptures are very explicit, 
and admit of but one interpretation. Our 



THE ATONEMENT. 



227 



Saviour said, "God so loved the world, that he 
gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever 
believeth in him should not perish, but have 
everlasting life." St. John says, "Herein is 
love ; not that we loved God, but that he loved 
us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for 
our sins." Paul says, "But God commendeth 
his love towards us, in that, while we were yet 
sinners, Christ died for us." But why need I 
dwell on the testimony of particular passages, to 
prove this glorious, this touching truth? Abun- 
dant and decisive as those already quoted are, 
and bearing directly upon this point, they are 
not stronger than can be drawn from almost 
every page of the New Testament. Who can 
read that holy book, without perceiving that 
the love of God was the foundation of the whole 
Christian dispensation, H— that he was so rilled 
with a father's compassion toward us, that he 
would not see his guilty creatures perishing in 
their self-inflicted misery, but in deep compas- 
sion sent his Son to deliver them ? The whole 
dealings of God with man exhibit him to our 
view as a most compassionate Father, taking 
pity upon his erring children, and using all 
means to bring them back to him. With all 
this array of Scripture proof, then, we have 
reason to reject that doctrine which teaches that 



228 



THE ATONEMENT. 



atonement was made by Jesus' suffering and 
dying, in order to. have an effect upon the feel- 
ings of God towards man, — to satisfy his anger, 
or avert from us his wrath, by taking it upon 
himself God is love, is filled with a father's 
affection toward his children, and entertains, 
even toward the guilty, feelings only of pity. 
He looks with abhorrence, indeed, upon their 
guilt. Sin, in his view, is not merely the 
greatest evil, but involves dreadful guilt ; and 
how can he look upon it but with displeasure ? 
But upon the sinner he looks as a father looks 
upon his disobedient son, in deep sorrow, and 
with a tender compassion ; which, while it does 
not avert the terrible consequences of sin, yet 
uses all means to win back the sinner to the 
paths of holiness. 

It may be said, that there are but few at the 
present day who hold these views of the Atone- 
ment. I rejoice, indeed, to believe, that the 
opinions of the Christian community are under- 
going and have already undergone considerable 
change upon this point, and that, in all denomi- 
nations, more consistent, rational, impressive, and 
practical views of Christianity are prevailing. 
Yet I doubt not that these erroneous views do 
now prevail in very many minds, and make 
many, while they look upon the Saviour as full 



THE ATONEMENT. 



229 



of compassion, and worthy of all gratitude, re- 
gard God as a being to be feared rather than to 
be loved, and as one who is moved to pity only 
by the earnest pleadings and dying blood of his 
well beloved Son. 

Bat there are very many, who, upon a more 
thorough examination, have seen the error of 
such a doctrine as this, and they have supposed 
that atonement is effected, not by producing any 
change in the disposition or feelings of God, but 
by producing such an effect upon the principles 
of his government as to render it consistent and 
safe for him to forgive the sinner. They regard 
the death of Christ as designed, not to appease 
the wrath of God, but to satisfy the claims of 
divine justice. According to this theory, the 
laws of the divine government are such, that, 
when once a threatening has been pronounced, 
the penalty must be paid, the punishment must 
be endured ; that it would be both inconsistent 
with the claims of justice, and an unsafe princi- 
ple in God's government, to pardon those who 
had sinned, until the appropriate punishment 
was inflicted. In this state of things, God sent 
Jesns into the world, that, by his suffering and 
death, he might receive the punishment due 
to the sinner, and thus make it safe for God to 
pardon him. To this doctrine I have many 



230 



THE ATONEMENT. 



objections, a few of which I will here state, — 
objections which satisfy my own mind that it is 
not the doctrine of Scripture, nor a necessary 
inference from any doctrine contained in Scrip- 
ture. 

The first objection to this view of the subject 
is, that the punishment of sin is, from its very 
nature, not transferable. The whole course of 
the divine government in this world, and the 
intimations of an hereafter, lead us to the con- 
clusion, that the chief punishment of sin is a 
punishment endured in the soul itself, and is the 
natural consequence which sin produces upon 
the soul. The constitution of the body is such 
that disease causes pain ; so the constitution of 
the soul is such that sin causes suffering. The 
bitter pangs of remorse, the gnawing of unsatis- 
fied desires, the restless agitation of a soul which 
has wandered from its true path, the hell of un- 
governed passions which the sinner kindles up 
in his own soul, — these constitute the severe 
and dreadful punishment of sin. Here, the 
soul blinds itself, in some measure, to their 
poignancy, by plunging into the world's interests 
and amusements, and striving to forget, in out- 
ward things, the desolation and woe which 
reign within. But there, all these outward 
alleviations are withdrawn, and the soul, left to 



THE ATONEMENT. 231 

its own miserable resources, is compelled to look 
in upon itself. There may be a great deal in 
the outward circumstances of punishment and 
retribution to appall and dismay the soul, but 
the misery which reigns within is but faintly 
shadowed forth by all the outward ills which 
can be undergone. Now, I remark, that, by this 
very nature of punishment, it cannot be trans- 
ferred from one to another. It is impossible 
that an innocent being can endure the remorse 
of conscience, the bitterness of guilt, the agony, 
the restlessness of soul, the dreadful punish- 
ment which is pronounced upon the sinner. 
Neither is it possible that an innocent being can 
endure a punishment equal in degree to that 
which the sinner endures. For, as sin is the 
greatest evil with which the soul can be afflict- 
ed, so the punishment of sin is greater than any 
outward suffering which can be endured. So, 
then, it is impossible to transfer the punishment 
of sin from guilty man to the innocent Son of 
God. 

But, in the second place, I say, that the 
ground of pardon, as revealed in the Scriptures, 
is not the substitution of another's sufferings for 
our own, but true repentance. This, throughout 
the Old Testament, is repeatedly declared to be 
the ground and way by which the sinner is to 



232 



THE ATONEMENT. 



be made happy and reconciled to God. "Let 
the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous 
man his thoughts, and let him return unto the 
Lord, and he will have mercy upon him, and 
to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." 
And not a word have we to show that there 
was any other ground upon which men were 
pardoned. They depended directly upon the 
mercy of God, through repentance ; and knew 
nothing of any transfer of punishment to another, 
as the ground of acceptance. And in the New 
Testament we find the same ground taken. 
The remission of sins upon repentance is a 
clear and explicit doctrine of the New Tes- 
tament, and with this doctrine agree all the 
representations in the New Testament of the 
dealings of God with man. Look at the para- 
ble of the Prodigal Son, where our Saviour 
so impressively represents the feelings of God 
towards the penitent, — his readiness to receive 
him, — how he hastens forward to meet his 
returning steps, and joyfully welcomes and 
forgives him, upon the simple ground of repent- 
ance, — without one word said to imply that 
punishment must be endured, or that, if the guilty 
one did not suffer it, an innocent one must, in 
order for the guilty one to be pardoned. If, then, 
it be the doctrine of Scripture, that the condition 



THE ATONEMENT. 



233 



of pardon is repentance, then Jesus did not suffer 
in order to satisfy the demands of the divine 
law, and to render it safe and consistent for God 
to pardon the guilty. 

A third objection to this view of the doc- 
trine of the Atonement is, that the demands of 
the divine law would not be satisfied by the death 
of an innocent substitute. The doctrine in 
question, as held by many, is stated thus : that, 
when the law is violated, the penalty for its vio* 
lation must be exacted ; and that, for the sake of 
saving the penitent sinner from enduring it, 
Jesus himself endured it ; and thus, justice being 
satisfied and the law honored, God might con- 
sistently pardon the sinner. Now, I remark, that 
this expedient will not answer, because it will not 
satisfy the law. The law expressly says, that 
the sinner shall suffer, — that, when any of God's 
laws are broken, suffering must be endured by 
the person who breaks them. No suffering of 
another can be considered as satisfying this law. 
The awful threatening is announced, — "The 
soul that sinneth, it shall die"; and if another 
being interposes, and offers to suffer instead of the 
guilty one, and so to shield him from punish- 
ment, even though that substitute be the Son of 
God himself, I say, that his sufferings do not and 
cannot satisfy the demands of the divine law. 



234 



THE ATONEMENT. 



It is very strange to me that this simple princi- 
ple should have been overlooked, — that the 
Christian world should have supposed, that a 
principle, which would not be admitted under 
any human government, because inconsistent 
with the stability and inviolability of law, should 
have been deemed worthy of introduction into 
the divine government, as perfectly consist- 
ent with the inviolability and honor of that 
government. What would be thought of it 
under a human government, if, after the convic- 
tion of a murderer, it should be declared, that 
the honor of the law would not allow that he 
should be pardoned, but that, in order to save 
the guilty one, an innocent person had been pro- 
vided to bear the penalty of his crime ? Would 
not the whole world cry out against the injustice 
of such a substitution ? Would they, could they, 
regard it as the execution of that law which said 
that the murderer, not the innocent man, should 
die for his crime ? It might be called an evasion 
of the law, and the innocent victim might justly 
receive the deep admiration of the world for his 
disinterested self-sacrifice, but it could not by 
any sophistry be shown that the law had been 
sacredly kept. How, then, can it be maintained, 
that, by the suffering and death of Jesus, the 
divine law is kept holy and inviolate ; and that 



THE ATONEMENT. 



235 



the penalty pronounced against the guilty may 
be remitted, because endured by the innocent ? 

I have now given my objections to the pre- 
vailing views with regard to the manner in 
which atonement is effected by the death of 
Christ. I have endeavoured to show that it 
cannot be by his removing the wrath of God, 
and thus rendering him willing to pardon, nor 
by his standing as the substitute of the sinner, 
and thereby rendering it consistent with the 
claims of divine justice to pardon the sinner and 
keep the law inviolate. 

And now, how is this atonement effected ? I 
answer, by producing an effect upon the heart of 
man ; by leading him to mourn over his sins ; 
by turning him from the error of his ways, and 
bringing him home to God ; in a word, not by 
reconciling God to man, but by reconciling man 
to God, — not by devising a plan by which God 
might consistently and safely pardon the penitent, 
but by presenting to the mind and heart of man 
such representations of the divine government 
and character, as to lead him to cast aside his 
enmity and indifference, and comply with the 
only conditions upon which it had before been 
declared that pardon could be obtained. And 
there is reason enough, why, among all the various 
means of reconciling man to God, such a promi- 



236 



THE ATONEMENT. 



nent place should have been given to the death 
of Jesus : for what is calculated to produce such 
a deep impression as that event? What can 
touch the human heart like the manifestation of 
disinterested love ? And when that love — so 
pure, so devoted as that of Jesus — is manifested 
not only in life but in death, not only toward 
his friends but his enemies, there is no wonder 
that it should have been regarded as the great 
means of reconciling man to God ; and accord- 
ingly, that preaching has been most efficacious 
which has dwelt most earnestly and frequently 
upon the cross of Christ. It is said that the 
Moravian missionaries, who have labored with 
such unremitting zeal in the most desolate and 
dreary regions of the earth, in converting the 
heathen to Christianity, have relied more upon 
this than any thing else. They have gone 
forth with the gospel in their hands, have told 
the simple and touching story of a Saviour's 
love, and have set his cross before their hearers 
as the brightest manifestation of that love. And 
of all missionaries, they have been the most suc- 
cessful in their labors. And so will it ever be. 
Men have resisted, and they will resist, the most 
eloquent appeals to reason, to enlightened self- 
interest, to fear. The glories of heaven, the 
terrors of hell, have been set before them ; but 



THE ATONEMENT. 



237 



their hearts have remained, and will remain, hard 
still. But bring them to the foot of the cross, — 
show them Jesus lifted up there, a willing offer- 
ing for them, — let them see there a devotedness 
of love such as the world's history never paral- 
lelled, and you reach their hearts ; their pride is 
cast away, and they come humbly unto Jesus, 
and live unto him who loved them and gave 
himself for them. That cross has been, and will 
ever be, the great means of reconciliation between 
God and man, — the great instrument of bring- 
ing the soul to repentance, and a grateful and 
devoted obedience to God. 

The life and death of Jesus have the same 
great purpose, — to produce an effect upon the 
human heart and character. And this is con- 
firmed by what the Scriptures so repeatedly 
teach. " God, having raised up his son Jesus, 
sent him to bless you" — how? "in turning 
away every one of you from his iniquities." 
"Thou shalt call his name Jesus, for he shall 
save his people " — from what ? deserved punish- 
ment of sin ? No ; but u from their sins," — from 
sin itself. " The blood of Jesus Christ," saith 
the Apostle, " cleanseth us. from " — what ? from 
punishment ? No ; but " from all sin " ; that is, 
has a tendency to purify the human soul from all 
sin. He is called our Saviour ; but it is always as a 



238 



THE ATONEMENT. 



saviour from sin ; — a Redeemer ; but a redeemer 
from iniquity, not from its consequences merely. 
" He gave himself for us, that he might redeem 
us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a 
peculiar people, zealous of good works." He is 
called u the propitiation for our sins." But how ? 
as rendering God propitious to us ? No ; for we 
have already seen that God was propitious be- 
fore ; that his love originated the gospel scheme. 
" Behold the Lamb of God," saith John the Bap- 
tist, " which taketh away " — what ? punishment 
from the guilty, by bearing it himself? No; 
but "the sin of the world." " With his stripes 
we are healed," saith the prophet, when speaking 
of Jesus. Healed from what ? Why, from the 
worst evil which the human soul can endure, — 
sin, — and healed by his stripes; as his sufferings 
have the strongest tendency to convince us of 
the evil of sin, and to lead us to renounce and 
forsake it. " He suffered, the just for the un- 
just " ; for the unjust, not instead of the unjust ; 
not in their place, but for the unjust. And why ? 
" that he might bring us to God." So that we find 
Scripture conforming to the dictates of reason, 
and teaching that the great effect which Jesus 
came to produce, in his life and by his death, 
was upon the hearts of men, in reconciling them 
to God. 



THE ATONEMENT. 



239 



I cannot close this discourse, my friends, with- 
out urging upon you two practical views which 
spring out of the subject we have been consider- 
ing. The first is, that, in the atonement by 
Jesus Christ, we see the brightest display of 
love, — not only of the love of Jesus, but of 
the love of God. With a father's compassion, 
he looked upon those who had gone astray ; and 
sent his Son to seek and to save that which was 
lost. There is no wrath, then; but mercy beams 
forth in its brightest glory, — mercy toward 
those who had despised and rejected the offers 
of his love. And when our hearts glow with 
grateful emotions toward Jesus, let us remem- 
ber that our Heavenly Father sent him into the 
world, and watches with an earnest interest the 
effect of his mission upon sinners. He is not 
willing that any should perish, but that all should 
come to repentance. 

The second is, that this view of atonement 
lays upon us a deeper responsibility. The great 
object of our Saviour's death was to reconcile 
us to God. If, after all that he has done, 
we remain unreconciled and opposed to his 
will, a dreadful weight of guilt rests on our 
heads. It will not avail us then to plead the 
blood of Jesus. It will be in vain for us to rely 
with a selfish hope upon his death, as rendering 



240 THE ATONEMENT. 

our condition any less miserable. That death 
can do us no good, unless it tends to reconcile 
us to God. I call on you, then, my friends, in 
view of life, with its thousand snares, and death, 
with its certain retribution, be ye reconciled to 
God. 



SERMON XII. 



NATIONAL SINS. 

CRY ALOUD, SPARE NOT, LIFT UP THY VOICE LIKE A TRUMPET, 
AND SHOW MY PEOPLE THEIR TRANSGRESSION, AND THE HOUSE 

of jacob their sins. — Isaiah, lviii. 1. 

In these words did God call upon the prophet 
to fulfil his duty toward the people among whom 
he had been raised up. In their captivity they 
were to be warned of their sins, and called to 
regard the judgments of God in their true light. 
Repentance was the burden of the prophet's 
teaching ; and, with a noble zeal for the honor of 
God, and for the best good of those to whom he 
was sent, did he deliver the message which had 
been intrusted to him. How far his warnings 
and exhortations availed we know not; but Ave 
do know that he delivered them with a boldness 
and earnestness which were calculated to arouse 
the indifferent, and awaken all to serious and 
anxious reflection. He was faithful to his duty, 
however remiss they might have been in theirs. 
16 



242 



NATIONAL SINS. 



And such should still be the case with all min- 
isters of religion. With sincerity and in love 
should they go on, vigorously and unitedly, to 
the great work, and expose, to those to whom 
they minister, the prevalent evils, sins, and dan- 
gers which beset them. And repentance should 
still be the burden of their preaching. 

This day, my friends, has been set apart, in 
conformity with the venerated custom of our 
ancestors, for a review of our sins, and for a 
penitent confession of them before God. And — 
were they but rightly observed — it is well that 
such seasons should be set apart by the civil 
authorities; for we are naturally enough in- 
clined to look at our excellences and virtues. 
Indeed, we are, as a people, so much given to 
boasting, — we are so ready to congratulate our- 
selves upon our superiority to all the rest of the 
world, in liberty, education, government, intelli- 
gence, and almost every virtue and excellence, — 
that we more especially need to have our sins 
brought before us, and to sober down our extrav- 
agant estimate of our own merit. 

I need not dwell now upon the necessity of a 
personal self-examination. Each one of us is 
peculiarly liable to fall into certain sins, either of 
heart or of conduct, which it becomes him most 
carefully to guard against. Each one of us. in 



NATIONAL SINS. 



243 



the secrecy of his own heart, should make it his 
great business to understand his own errors and 
failings. And so strong is our self-esteem, that 
it requires no little effort to see our characters in 
their true light. But this must be done, or all 
our success in the outward affairs of life will be 
in vain. Happiness, that treasure which we are 
seeking so eagerly, must be found, if found at 
all, in a well regulated heart and life, and in 
constant efforts after a higher excellence than 
we have attained. Whoever sits down in indo- 
lence, self-satisfied, and is unwilling to look at 
and to overcome the sins which easily beset him, 
is in a pitiable state indeed. He resembles a man, 
who, having run a thorn into his flesh, for fear 
of the pain of searching for and extracting it, 
permits it to stay there, to fester and corrupt, and 
agonize his whole frame. I exhort, then, each 
one of you to institute a searching self-examina- 
tion. Apply the same strict scrutiny to your own 
hearts, which you are in the habit of exercising 
in regard to others. You will not be in much 
danger of too severe a judgment of yourselves. 
It will materially help you, also, in this exami- 
nation, to hold up before you your Saviour's 
bright example ; by the side of your own charac- 
ter, and by the brightness and purity of that, 
you will be better able to discern your moral 



244 



NATIONAL SINS. 



deformity. Take up each bright trait in that 
perfect model of excellence, and see how far the 
Saviour's image is impressed on your own souls. 
Take up each darker feature in your own char- 
acter, and, in view of all that your Saviour did 
and was, you will see the baseness of ingrati- 
tude and disobedience, and may be led to that 
repentance which is unto life. 

But it is rather to evils of a public nature, that 
I would particularly ask your attention now, 
— evils over which the hearts of many true and 
good men have mourned, and for the removal of 
which many earnest efforts have been made. 

And the first subject on which I would speak 
to you is slavery. This foul blot still blackens 
our national character. Professing to be the 
freest nation on the face of the earth, we yet 
hold in hopeless bondage more than three millions 
of our fellow-beings. Proclaiming before the 
world, as the fundamental maxim of our politi- 
cal constitution, the great truth of human equal- 
ity, we keep in miserable servitude those whom 
God has made of the same blood as ourselves, 
buying and selling them as we do our horses and 
cattle. Professing to regard as divine the in- 
structions of Jesus, and to hold in the highest 
esteem that golden rule, that we should do unto 
others as we would that they should do unto 



NATIONAL SINS. 



245 



us, our habits and our laws bind chains upon 
others which we should spurn ourselves, and 
rather than endure which, we would die. Pro- 
fessing to honor the free and noble spirit of our 
fathers, which led them to rebel against the 
power of the mightiest nation on earth, because 
they believed that power was unjustly exercised, 
— ready to express our sympathy and afford our 
aid, wherever the oppressed are rising to strike 
down the arm of the oppressor, we ye! acquiesce 
in silence in the subjection of our fellow-men to 
the unjust rule of those who hold them in slav- 
ery, and we pledge the whole power and wealth 
of the nation to suppress the slightest attempt 
they may make to recover their dearest rights. 

That the principles, for which our friends who 
associate themselves in anti-slavery societies 
contend, are sound, I cannot for a moment doubt. 
And. of the duty and safety of the immediate 
adoption of measures for the removal of slavery, I 
have far less doubt than I once had. The re- 
sults of emancipation in the British West Indies 
are sufficient to convince the most incredulous , 
that we need not fear to restore to slaves the 
rights of which they have been unjustly depriv- 
ed. They give practical assurance of what we 
might have inferred, under the government of 
God, that, if we have been doing wrong, we 



246 



NATIONAL SINS. 



cannot too soon repent, and begin to do right. 
They teach us that to do justice in this matter is 
the only safe course. 

And yet, with this sympathy in the principles of 
the anti-slavery party, I cannot approve of all their 
measures. I believe, from what I have seen and 
heard, that these measures have tended to retard 
the result at which they were aiming. I be- 
lieve that they have exasperated the South, so 
that those in that section of the country, who saw 
and deplored the political and moral evils of 
slavery, have been compelled to silence. A party 
has arisen, too, at the South, which had no ex- 
istence there previously, which undertakes to 
prove, that, instead of an evil, slavery is a bles- 
sing, — that it tends to cherish noble qualities, 
and that it is a Scriptural institution. Now, 
however absurd such doctrines may seem to us, 
they will be received and welcomed among those 
whose present interests would be advanced by 
the continuance of slavery. With the denun- 
ciatory spirit, also, which has generally charac- 
. terized the publications of the anti-slavery press, 
I have no sympathy. If we would reach those 
who alone can act for the removal of slavery, 
we must come to them kindly, win their confi- 
dence, show our good-will, and not begin by 
abusing them ; any other course will only harden 



NATIONAL SINS. 



247 



their hearts against all the influences we can 
bring to bear upon them. Yet, with the little 
sympathy I have for the measures of our anti- 
slavery friends, and the little hope I have that 
those measures will accomplish the great object 
they have in view, I have far less sympathy with 
the spirit of those who have opposed them, and 
who have been so ready, for political or other 
reasons, to heap odium upon them. For I be- 
lieve that among them may be found some of 
the noblest spirits that live. What, then, can be 
done for the removal of slavery ? It seems to 
me that we can do but very little, in the pres- 
ent state of excitement. When that shall have 
in a measure passed away, the diffusion of truth 
in the spirit of love must then, I think, be the 
mighty instrument for the removal of this, as of 
all other evils. 

I. pass to another enormous public evil, an evil 
under which the world has suffered for ages, yet 
to the enormity and wickedness of which the 
world is still so sadly insensible, — I mean war. 
Were we not, from our earliest childhood, so fa- 
miliar with the name of war, its horrid charac- 
ter would be seen by us in its true light. But 
our youthful imaginations have been kindled by 
the recital of its heroic deeds and bloody victo- 
ries. All the eloquence of the historian, all the 



i 



248 



NATIONAL SINS* 



fancy of the poet, have been engaged in throw- 
ing around the bloody form of war a fascinating 
charm. And then, too, from want of due dis- 
crimination, we have permitted our admiration 
of those noble qualities, which have actually been 
exhibited in war, to extend to, and atone for, war 
itself. But, stripped of these illusions, what is 
war ? It is either a mad, selfish ambition, which 
is resolved on attaining its object, no matter at 
what expense of human life and human happi- 
ness, — or it is a blind and brutal spirit of revenge, 
which, for some real or supposed insult, would 
pour out the blood of the guilty and innocent 
alike. And, beside the guilt of war, which cer- 
tainly cannot be less than that of murder, its 
folly is so glaring, that it is wonderful it should 
be tolerated by nations called civilized. It set- 
tles no principles, determines no man's rights, 
and very seldom redresses any wrong. In gen- 
eral, the very cause in which it originated is not 
only not attained, but is sometimes wholly lost 
sight of. War ought to be stripped of its illu- 
sions. We ought to understand the dreadful 
waste of property, of happiness, of life, of char- 
acter, it causes. How many poor wretches, with 
no quarrel against each other, are drawn out to 
cut each other down, and to pillage the property 
of the innocent ! 



NATIONAL SINS. 



249 



We need to diffuse through the community 
more just notions of national honor ; for on the 
plea of national honor alone is war now advocat- 
ed. And let it be understood that the true hon- 
or of a nation, as of an individual, cannot be 
tarnished but by its own acts. When I do a 
dishonorable deed, — then, and only then, am I 
dishonored. But we want the reputation of 
courage, and, if we do not have war, we shall be 
branded as cowards. This is just the duellist's 
plea. So afraid is he of the bad opinion of man, 
that he will do what conscience and God forbid. 
No ! Let us ever dare to do right. This is the 
highest species of courage. Let these views 
prevail ; let Christian sentiments and feelings be 
diffused ; let men learn to look upon their fellow- 
men in the light of Christian truth, and be as 
bold and independent in maintaining Christian 
principles, and doing their duty, as they are now 
jealous for their imagined rights, and then war 
will stand on the same ground as duelling does 
among us. We should endeavour, too, to dis- 
courage the military spirit. I have no great ob- 
jection to military companies merely as a means 
of amusement, especially since their parades and 
anniversaries have so generally ceased to be the 
scenes and occasions of intemperance and riot- 
ing. But we know that they are defended on 



250 



NATIONAL SINS. 



other grounds ; that their gaudy trappings, and 
their martial array, and their inspiring music, are 
all intended to make the business of hunting 
honorable, and to keep alive in the people a war- 
like spirit. Now, if we allow the necessity of 
an organized militia to repel invasion, we should 
look upon it as a very sad necessity ; we should 
regard their business with as melancholy feelings 
as we do that of those public officers who have the 
charge of executing criminals, — as arising from 
the deep depravity of man, and from sad necessity, 
and not as something to be gloried in. We should 
honor the mechanic and the farmer, and all those 
whose business it is to advance the comforts of 
life, and to diffuse happiness, far more than we 
honor the soldier with his gorgeous apparel. 
And we should endeavour to infuse these senti- 
ments into the minds of our children, that they 
may learn how much more honorable is the hard 
hand of honest, useful industry, than the hand 
which wields a sword, or directs the movements 
of contending armies. 

There is one other terrible public evil to 
which I must advert, — I mean intemperance. 
I think that every well-wisher of man must in 
his heart rejoice at the glorious progress of the 
temperance cause. Who of us can look at a fam- 
ily where intemperance has been committing its 



NATIONAL SINS. 



251 



ravages, — where it has broken down the health, 
withered the affections, weakened the intellect, 
destroyed property, and brought a blight over the 
soul, — who of us, with the heart of a man in 
him, can look upon such a family, without wish- 
ing that this terrible curse might be stayed ? 
And who can compare such a family with the 
household, however poor, where temperate hab- 
its, industry, affection, and peace dwell ? Now, 
if we are only willing, we can do something to 
remove this dreadful evil, and to put in its place 
the rich blessings of temperance and peace. It 
seems to me that there is with many a culpable 
indifference to this subject. Many there are, I 
believe, who would share their last loaf with a 
hungry sufferer, who stand aloof from this good 
cause, and either lend it no aid at all, or are ob- 
structing its progress. My friends, I wish that 
you . would answer this question to your own 
consciences, — Am I doing what I ought to do to 
banish intemperance and its dreadful evils from 
this town ? Is my influence in this matter all on 
the side of virtue and happiness ? We cannot 
alter the past. Perhaps we can do but little to- 
ward reforming those who are now intemperate. 
But we can do a great deal in saving others from 
this dreadful habit. A wonderful change is 
going on in other countries, and in our large 



252 



NATIONAL SINS. 



cities. You have heard, doubtless, of thousands 
of our Irish population who have forsaken in- 
toxicating drinks. Shall we stand alone in this 
great movement, and do nothing ? I trust not. 
Let us forget the past, and go on vigorously and 
unitedly to the great work. 



SERMON XIII.* 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE.— I. 

FOR I HAVE NOT SHUNNED TO DECLARE UNTO YOU ALL THE 
COUNSEL OF GOD. — Acts, XX. 27. 

This day concludes eleven years of my min- 
istry among you, and, through circumstances 
beyond human control, it having become neces- 
sary that I should leave you, it concludes the 
term of that ministry. For a long time I have 
felt that my state of health has prevented me 
from fulfilling my duties among you as a minis- 
ter's duties ought to be fulfilled, and as you had 
a right to expect they would be. And although, 
through your kindness, much indulgence has 
been extended toward me, and you have not ob- 
jected to, but rather urged, my frequent and long 
absences from this scene of my labors, — and al- 
though, when here, you have not required of me 
that close and unremitting attention to duty, 



* The two discourses which follow were preached on the oc- 
casion of the author's leaving Kennebunk. 



254 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



which the office of a minister demands, — still, I 
have not felt that it was right for me to continue 
thus to serve you, nor just to your spiritual in- 
terests that the duties of your minister should 
be thus performed. And I have thence been led 
to request of you a dismission from my office as 
your pastor and religious teacher ; a request with 
which you have complied in a manner very 
deeply affecting to me. 

Under the circumstances of the present occa- 
sion, I am led to take a review of the doctrines 
which I have preached during my ministry among 
you. For the manner in which I have unfolded 
to you the religion of Jesus Christ I am account- 
able to my God. And you also are accountable 
to him for the effect which the doctrines of that 
religion have had upon your hearts. May we all 
conduct this examination with a careful regard 
to our own responsibility to Him, who has taught 
us the truth for our satisfaction, and who will 
certainly condemn us if we have wilfully per- 
verted that truth, or held it in unrighteousness ! 

We may consider the doctrines of Christianity 
under three general divisions ; namely, those 
which relate to the character and government of 
God, to the nature, duty, and destiny of man, and 
to the character and offices of Jesus Christ. While 
I have been among you, it has been my aim to 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



255 



give you just, impressive, practical views 'upon 
the great truths of the Bible relative to these 
deeply interesting topics. I have not shunned 
to declare unto you all the counsel of God, so 
far as I have known it. — I have revealed to you 
the character of God. While I have placed him 
before you as a Being of Infinite Holiness, who 
loveth righteousness, and in whose sight all 
sin is hateful, i have sought most earnestly to 
lead you to regard him as a Father. With all 
the feelings of affectionate interest with which 
an earthly parent looks upon his children does 
God look upon us. No love which one human 
being bears to another can equal the love which 
he bears toward us. He hath manifested it in 
the rich provisions of nature, in the wise ar- 
rangements of providence, in the vast system of 
means which his mercy is employing for the re- 
covery and redemption of the sinner. He sup- 
plies with a liberal hand the wants of the help- 
less, he looks with an eye of love upon the 
sorrows of the distressed, and with earnest pity 
does he seek to save that, which is lost. — And 
the whole moral government of God is based 
upon his paternal relation to man. His com- 
mands are strict, searching, thorough, requiring 
the supreme sway of conscience over every 
thought, feeling, and affection ; and yet they are 



256 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



so many directions how we may attain to the 
highest dignity and happiness of our nature. His 
prohibitions are stern and uncompromising, ris- 
ing up in the sinner's path like a wall of fire, 
and demanding in tones of thunder his return to 
virtue ; and yet they are so many warnings, that 
his children may learn to avoid the deepest curse 
of which the human soul is capable. In all 
ways, and by all means, is God thus seeking 
to promote the highest welfare of man. He 
has ever for his highest purpose the perfection 
and bliss of our souls. Have you received 
these truths into cold and careless hearts, and, 
acknowledging them to be truths, have you be- 
come no more devoted to the service of your 
Father ? Have you heard them proclaimed, Sab- 
bath after Sabbath, and have they failed to lead 
you in humble gratitude to the love and obedi- 
ence of your best Friend ? What words can 
express the danger of that soul which has ac- 
quired the fatal power of resisting the holiest 
influences of the Divine Spirit ? May you 
awake to that danger,, ere it be too late ! 

I have preached to you the nature, the duty, 
and the destiny of man. His nature I have 
represented as a noble nature. He is the child 
of God, formed in his image, capable of sharing, 
in some humble measure, in his holiness and 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 257 

happiness. I have taught you to feel that God 
has endowed you with all the divine faculties of 
immortal, spiritual beings, and made you capable 
of becoming followers of him as dear children. 
As for the doctrine, that the nature of man is 
depraved, I have no belief in it, but, on the con- 
trary, a deep abhorrence of it. Of all the doc- 
trines which the ingenuity of man ever devised, 
that appears to me one of the most dreadful ; 
darkening the prospects and hopes of the human 
soul, derogatory to the divine character, and 
tending to diminish human responsibility, by 
casting the blame of its sins off from the soul, 
upon its Creator. That doctrine, I thank my 
God, I have never believed, and never preached. 
Human depravity I believe in, — not a deprav- 
ity natural to man, born in him, the necessary 
result of the exercise of his powers, — >but a 
depravity the result of his own abuse and perver- 
sion of his noble faculties, and of his voluntary 
departure from the peaceful paths of virtue. 
Human depravity who can help believing ? 
Who is ignorant of its alarming prevalence ? 
Who is blind to the misery which it brings with 
it and after it ? Who does not know that it is 
the one prolific source of all the wretchedness 
of man? It is to counteract this exceeding 
depravity, that I have presented to you higher 
17 



258 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



and nobler views of human nature ; for I knew, 
that, if you received them into honest hearts, 
they would make you feel a deeper responsibility 
for whatever sins you commit, and that you 
would feel that it were as wise to maim your 
bodies, or mar your intellectual faculties, as to 
dim the purity of that spirit which the Infinite 
Father has breathed into you. I have sought 
to lead you to a deep reverence of your own 
nature, so that you might not degrade your- 
selves to be the mere slaves of this world, while 
the spiritual world is open before you, and all its 
infinite joys are placed within your reach. And 
I put it now to your consciences, whether you 
have permitted these views to produce their 
natural and legitimate effect upon your hearts 
and lives. 

Founded upon these views of human nature, 
and of the character and government of God, I 
have preached a system of human duty at once 
the most spiritual and the most thoroughly prac- 
tical. I have endeavoured to explain and urge 
upon your attention regeneration, not as an ab- 
stract doctrine, not as a subject of controversy, 
not as a matter of curious speculation, but as the 
all-embracing, all-important duty of every human 
being. Regeneration I have shown to be the 
unfolding of the spiritual powers of the human 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



259 



soul, and the application of its divine affections 
and faculties to their appropriate objects. Man, 
the child of God, is unjust to his own nature, if 
he do not recognize the high relation which he 
sustains to his Heavenly Father, and labor most 
earnestly to fulfil the duties which spring from 
that relation. Jesus came that he might awaken 
within the human soul this spiritual life ; and, 
until the minister of Jesus succeeds in leading 
his people to a perception of its transcendent 
importance, he has not fulfilled his appropriate 
work, although he may have incessantly and 
successfully urged the formation of good habits 
of life, and enjoined the utmost strictness of out- 
ward conduct. When man attains a deep con- 
viction that he is a child of God, and has formed 
his views of life and duty upon this conviction, 
and his true life has begun, the natural result 
will be a life of Christian virtue. Does he feel 
that he is the child of God ? Then will he trust 
in his Father's wisdom, submit to his disposal, 
rejoice to do his will. Then no cloud of sorrow 
can overshadow him, upon which his eye of faith 
does not discern the bow of promise. No temp- 
tation can arise, in which he does not hear a call 
to resolute resistance,. and find an opportunity of 
attaining more power over himself. From all 
his intercourse with human society, from every 



260 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



event of life, joyous or grievous, from every 
scene in nature, do his spiritual faculties derive 
strength ; for he feels that they were all designed 
to assist him in becoming a follower of God as 
his dear child. With these views, too, man 
looks with a very different eye upon his fellow- 
man. Underneath the most loathsome misery 
and the darkest depravity, he sees his Father's 
image in the soul, and sympathizes with all its 
struggles to release itself from its bondage, and 
rejoices to assist it in rising to the glorious liber- 
ty of the sons of God. Poverty never excites 
his contempt, never meets from him a cold neg- 
lect ; for he has learned to reverence human 
nature too much to slight it because it wears a 
mean garb. Sin never excites his ridicule ; for 
sin is, in his view, the sad ruin of a noble nature, 
and awakens in him the tenderest compassion. 
And therefore he labors with a brother's love and 
a Christian zeal to redeem and elevate his fellow- 
men. And thus it is, that from this one great 
duty of regeneration will spring that supreme 
love of God, and that disinterested love of man, 
which Jesus enjoins. 

I have likewise taught what I believe the word 
of God teaches with regard to the destiny of man ; 
that, under the righteous government of God, vir- 
tue will not go unrewarded, nor sin unpunished. 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



261 



To those who seek to love and serve their God, 
the blessedness of heaven will be given ; a bles- 
sedness infinite in its duration, ever increasing in 
its joys. This happiness of heaven I have repre- 
sented to you as resulting from the very character 
of the soul itself, filled with the love of holiness, 
and glowing with gratitude toward its God and its 
Saviour. Heaven begins, therefore, upon earth, 
in the Christian soul ; and, when this corruptible 
hath put on incorruption, and this mortal immor- 
tality, that soul will be pressing on toward the 
perfection and bliss for which it was created. 
Death will introduce it into new scenes, higher 
privileges ; and its bliss will ever be commensu- 
rate, through the infinite mercy of God, with 
its fidelity to itself and its Creator. u The 
kingdom of God," said Jesus, "is within you." 
" Whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall 
never die." I have not shunned, also, to declare 
unto you my deep and firm conviction, that 
those over whose hearts religion does not bear 
sway cannot be happy ; that they carry a hell 
within them ; and that death, separating them, 
as it must, from all the engrossing employments 
of the world, from all those means whereby they 
seek to silence the reproaches of conscience, and 
leaving them alone to themselves and their God, 
must heighten into intensity the misery which 



262 FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 

they have been laying up for themselves. The 
sinner, I believe, lifts a suicidal hand against his 
own soul, is self-sacrificed, self-destroyed by the 
sins in which he voluntarily indulges. Know- 
ing, therefore, the terrors of the Lord, I have en- 
deavoured to persuade you to turn from all your 
evil ways, and save your souls from the second 

DEATH. 

With regard to the character and offices of 
Jesus Christ, I have represented him, as he is set 
forth in the Scriptures, as the Son of God, inferior 
to and dependent upon the Father, by whom he 
was sanctified and sent into the world, and from 
whom he received his power, his wisdom, and 
his authority. He came into the world that he 
might bring about a reconciliation between God 
and man ; not by changing the disposition of God, 
but by changing the character and disposition of 
man, leading him to understand his relation to 
God, awakening him to repentance, persuading 
and assisting him to fulfil the duties which he 
owes to his God and his fellow-men. The 
doctrine of the atonement I have represented as 
one and the same thing with this reconciliation. 
I have taught that we receive the atonement, 
whenever we are led by faith in Jesus Christ to 
turn unto the Lord our God, and to serve him 
as our rightful sovereign and ruler. This atone- 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



263 



ment, I have taught, is effected by the character 
and life of Jesus, in which he exemplified the 
beauty of holiness ; by his instructions, in which 
he made known to us the disposition and pur- 
poses of God, the nature and destiny of man ; 
and especially by his death, revealing the infinite 
depth of his own love to man, and kindling a 
love like his own in the hearts of men, and thus 
leading the soul in penitence and holy resolution 
back to its forsaken God. The Saviour's cross 
I have not failed to hold up before you as the 
great means of human redemption, virtue, and 
happiness. Thousands have yielded to the 
power of that cross, who have resisted all other 
influences, and hardened themselves against all 
other impressions. 

These doctrines, and others of minor impor- 
tance, which time prevents me from enumerat- 
ing now, have I, in the course of my ministry, 
preached to you. I have endeavoured to preach 
them, not by way of controversy, but as deeply 
solemn and practical truths. I believe that 
these truths lie at the foundation of the gospel, 
so that they are true sources of the most exalted 
virtue and piety. If I have failed to present 
them in a clear, distinct light to any of your 
minds, and if, through my negligence, any of you 
are still in darkness as to the sublime doctrines 



264 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



of the gospel, I pray for the forgiveness of Him 
before whom I shall soon stand to give an ac- 
count of my stewardship. If any have received 
these glorious truths into their understandings, 
and their hearts have been still cold and dead, I 
entreat them to remember that the clearer one's 
views of truth and duty are, the deeper is his 
responsibility to God, and the sadder will be his 
lot if he be unfaithful to his solemn trust. If, in 
the course of my ministry, and by means of it, 
any have received these truths into honest and 
good hearts, and have brought forth the peace- 
able fruits of righteousness, I desire to thank my 
God that he has made my labors instrumental 
in these blessed results. And though, in that 
respect, I have not the satisfaction which I might 
wish, I believe I may cherish the glorious hope, 
that there are some on earth, and others now 
in heaven, who have felt the saving power of the 
truths which they have here heard, and have 
been brought by them to happiness and God. 



SERMON XIV. 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. — II. 

AND NOW, BRETHREN, I COMMEND YOU TO GOD, AND TO THE 
WORD OF HIS GRACE, WHICH IS ABLE TO BUILD YOU UP, 
AND TO GIVE YOU AN INHERITANCE AMONG ALL THEM WHICH 
ARE SANCTIFIED. Acts, XX. 32. 

In my discourse this morning I took a brief 
review of the doctrines which I have endeavoured 
to maintain and inculcate during the term of my 
ministry among you. I have never seen reason 
to regret that these doctrines have been preached 
by me. And if I could only look back upon the 
whole of my ministry with as much satisfaction 
as upon this part of it, I should be contented. 
For these doctrines I regard as the truths of the 
gospel, revealed by God for the growth of his 
children in Christian holiness ; and I know, from 
what it has been my privilege to witness of the 
results of them upon many a heart among you, 
that they constitute the power of God unto sal- 
vation to every one that believeth them. I only 
regret that they have not been advocated with 



266 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



more power, and enforced with greater earnest- 
ness. The doctrines themselves I rejoice in. 
Living, I would cherish them, and do what in 
me lies to defend and spread them. Dying, I 
would have them for the support of my soul in 
the hour of its extremest need. I pray that 
they may pervade human society, and accom- 
plish the divine purpose for which the blessed 
Teacher gave them to the world. 

In taking my leave of you, you will permit 
me to say a few words by way of parting counsel. 

And in the first place, I would enjoin upon 
you a firm, earnest, open avowal of the doctrines 
which you have embraced. After having used all 
the means within your reach for the attainment 
of just views of religion, do not shrink from any 
reproaches which the avowal of them may bring 
upon you. Do not fear being called by hard 
names by those who do not understand and who 
may not appreciate them as you do. Time was, 
and that not long ago, when there was too 
much of a controversial spirit among those 
called Unitarians, and they needed chiefly to be 
warned of those evils which result from conten- 
tion with their fellow-Christians. Being con- 
tantly called upon to defend their faith, they were 
in great danger of degrading the sacred cause 
of Christianity by the introduction of a narrow 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 267 

party-spirit and a mere sectarian zeal. That 
danger, among us at least, has given place to one 
of a different kind, although not less fatal to 
character. Oar present danger lies in an over- 
weening anxiety for the good opinion of other 
denominations. To gain that good opinion we 
are naturally anxious. Cast out, in time past, 
from the possession even of the Christian name, — 
charged, so generally as we were, with denying 
that Saviour whom it is our delight to honor, it 
is not unnatural that we should meet with great 
satisfaction any disposition on the part of other 
Christians to receive us on a different ground. 
And perhaps, for the purpose of securing their 
good opinion, we may sometimes have tried to 
make it appear that the difference between our 
opinions and theirs was less than it really is. We 
may have been willing to have it supposed that 
we agree with them as to doctrines and measures 
to a greater extent than we actually do. Let 
me, then, exhort you never to swerve from a 
frank, honest avowal of your own religious 
opinions. You owe this to yourselves ; for it is 
degrading to any man's character to let the fear 
or the favor of the world turn him aside from 
honesty. You owe it to the truth you believe, 
if it have in any degree enlightened your minds 
or purified your hearts, that you give it your 



268 



FA 'EWELL DISCOURSE. 



firm support through evil report as well as 
through good report. You owe it to your God 
and your Saviour, that you be not ashamed of 
their words. Do not be anxiously inquiring how 
this or that measure may please your neighbours 
of a different denomination, or what they will 
think of this or that doctrine ; but ask, — Is that 
measure calculated to promote our own spiritual 
improvement? Is that doctrine the truth of 
God? Independence in the adoption and ex- 
pression of our opinions is what we much need, 
and are bound most jealously to preserve ; inde- 
pendence of every influence which may be 
exerted by our own or any other denomination. 
Every man is bound to enthrone the love of 
truth in his heart, and he must suffer nothing 
to turn him from the honest, earnest pur- 
suit of it. Perhaps, in the circumstances in 
which you are about to be placed, this advice 
may not be needless. It would not be strange, 
if, when you are destitute of a pastor, others 
should take advantage of your situation, to per- 
suade you away from your accustomed place of 
worship, and to act upon your minds by other 
influences than the simple influence of truth. If 
you should be exposed to such dangers, stand 
firm, I pray you, to your own convictions. 
Take heed, lest, in your desire to please your 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



269 



fellow-men, you offend against your conscience, 
your Saviour, your God. 

Again, let me remind you that the spirit of 
Christianity is a spirit of unwearied love, and of 
earnest effort for the good of others. One of the 
chief ways in which it promotes human happi- 
ness is by awakening and giving a right direction 
to the benevolent affections of the soul. It sets 
before us as our model Jesus of Nazareth, and 
tells us, in its simple eloquence, that he went 
about doing good. It tells us that God employs 
human instrumentality in accomplishing his pur- 
poses of mercy for the race. It teaches us to 
consider it a noble privilege to be fellow-laborers 
with him. If, then, Christianity has exerted its 
celestial influence upon us, we shall eagerly em- 
brace every opportunity to promote the temporal 
and spiritual welfare of our fellow-men. We 
shall- be ready to assist with our sympathy and 
counsel those who may need them. We shall 
freely use our time, our talents, our property, 
whenever and wherever we can do good. We 
shall not be hoarding up, with a miser's grasp, 
the property which success in business has pour- 
ed into our coffers, or which laborious industry 
has carefully gathered. We shall feel that all 
we are and have belongs to God : and we shall 
act as faithful stewards, who will ere long be 



270 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



called to their account. My friends, what do 
we wish money for, if it is not to be used ? 
And how can we better use it than for the 
benefit of our fellow-creatures ? It will be but 
a miserable satisfaction to look back, at the close 
of life, and be compelled to feel that we have 
lived for ourselves alone, and have laid up treas- 
ures on earth. O, if we would only bear that 
hour more habitually in mind, we should live 
for a truer purpose and a nobler end ! You, my 
friends, have expended with a liberal hand, when- 
ever you have been called to do any thing hav- 
ing a direct reference to your own spiritual 
improvement. Witness that valuable library, 
which you have gathered for your own and 
your children's benefit, and which has been so in- 
strumental in elevating your tastes, and spreading 
sound religious knowledge among the members 
of our beloved parish. This place of worship, 
too, so neat and commodious, bears witness to 
your liberality in what concerns your spiritual 
interests most directly. And if a people's kind- 
ness and liberality toward their pastor be any 
test of their willingness to make sacrifices for 
their religious interests, I am sure you have 
given that evidence. But have we done what 
we ought to have done for others ? Have we 
cultivated that enlarged Christian benevolence 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



271 



which looks beyond its own little circle of in- 
terests, and occupies itself in devising and exe- 
cuting plans for the spiritual good of our fellow- 
men ? I fear that herein we have all been too 
deficient. The missionary spirit, — that intense, 
burning desire to extend to others the inestimable 
blessings of Christianity, how little of it is there 
among us ! There are many poor, many deeply 
depraved, in our very midst. How little, in com- 
parison with our means, are we doing to elevate 
and bless them, and to bring their hearts under 
the influence of gospel truth! Our fellow- 
Christians of other denominations have their 
hearts set upon the sublime work of the world's 
conversion ; and eagerly, and perseveringly, and 
gloriously, are they laboring in that noble cause. 
We do comparatively nothing. We may think 
many of their plans injudicious. We may call 
some, of them visionary and ostentatious. We 
may say that there is work enough to be done, 
and with far better prospect of success, at home. 
All this may be true. But, after all, can we 
deny that the missionary spirit was the very 
spirit of Christ ? And if we do not share in his 
deep love to men, and in his laborious exertions 
and sacrifices for their good, may it not be 
said to us that we are none of his ? I feel, my 
friends, that, while I have been among you, I 



272 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



have not been sufficiently earnest in persuading 
you to live for others rather than for yourselves. 
I have not been sufficiently explicit in showing 
where and how you could do the most good. If 
I had done my duty better, you might have been 
more faithful to your solemn trusts. But the 
opportunity for me is gone. I cannot recall 
the past, to correct its errors, or to atone for its 
neglects. But I would entreat each one of you 
to ask himself, Where and how can I do any 
good ? O, my dear friends, do not live for your- 
selves alone, but for Him who loved you and 
gave himself for you ! In living for others, you 
live for him: for you remember how he said, 
''Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
least of these my brethern, ye have done it unto 
me." 

Let me likewise counsel you to take more 
heed to the right education of the young. And " 
by education I mean not the mere acquisition of 
knowledge, but the right direction and improve- 
ment of all the faculties of the intellectual and 
moral nature. You do not educate your child, 
when you merely put books into his hands and 
send him to school. You educate him aright, 
only when you watch most anxiously that right 
impressions be made upon his mind, just views 
adopted by him, and firm principles established 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 273 

within him. Children are left too much to the 
casual influences of prevailing opinions and prac- 
tices. We do not feel, as deeply as we ought, 
with what vigilant care these young immortals 
should be trained up, and how carefully we 
should lead them to the adoption of just princi- 
ples. Their inclinations are restrained, when 
the gratification of them would interfere with 
their parents' convenience or pleasure, but too 
seldom from a high and holy regard to their 
own truest interests. I cannot forbear adverting 
to one increasing evil which characterizes the 
present time. There is among the young a 
strong disposition to resist the exercise of a 
wholesome parental authority, a feverish impa- 
tience of restraint, a readiness to insist upon and 
talk about their supposed rights, rather than to 
ascertain and fulfil their duties. These tenden- 
cies do not augur well for the welfare of society, 
and no little wisdom on the part of parents is 
demanded to control and correct them. It is a 
common, but true maxim, which teaches us that 
we must learn to obey before we are fit to com- 
mand. Is it, then, of no consequence, whether 
those who are soon to take their places as lead- 
ers of society are imbibing sound principles and 
forming right habits, or whether they have em- 
braced false, disorganizing principles, and formed 
18 



274 FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 

corresponding habits? As members of society, 
anxious for its welfare, you should take heed to 
these things. As parents, whose hearts are 
deeply interested for those whose moral welfare 
is dearer to you than life, you should strive to 
keep within your children's minds a tender con- 
science, and to implant an internal restraint of 
sound principles. As responsible to God for the 
precious charge which he has intrusted to you, 
should you sedulously strive to form their im- 
mortal minds upon the perfect model of your 
Saviour's character, and to train them up for 
glory, honor, and immortality. Can you con- 
ceive a higher joy than that of meeting these 
dear children of yours all safe in heaven, and 
knowing that it was by your virtuous example 
and your earnest teachings that they were fitted 
for that life of bliss ? Can you imagine a deeper 
curse than the terrible consciousness, that by 
your neglect these immortal souls were ruined, 
lost? 

You will soon be called, my friends, to select 
for yourselves another pastor. And may I not 
give a word of advice upon that subject also? I 
trust that you will receive it kindly, when I say 
to you, that there prevails frequently too fastid- 
ious a taste in the choice of a minister. People 
are not satisfied, when they find a man filled with 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



275 



the spirit of his Master, and willing to devote a 
sound, well furnished mind to their spiritual in- 
terests. If there happens to be some slight 
defect, in voice, or manner, or even in personal 
appearance, the man is, by many, at once con- 
demned ; although, probably, that defect would 
be forgotten as soon as they should come to know 
the real excellences of his intellectual and moral 
character. My advice, then, is, that you seek 
for your pastor a man in whom the true spirit of 
Jesus dwells ; not a mercenary man, not a vain 
man, even though he has the eloquence of an 
angel. Be satisfied with no one, unless his heart 
is in his work J and then resolve to overlook or 
bear with any minor defects which you may 
find in him. Defects there will be in every one. 
You cannot find a faultless man. It is far better 
that a minister should be deficient in his outward 
manner than in his mental or spiritual qualifica- 
tions. A heartless minister cannot but drag down 
any society which has the misfortune to be bur- 
dened with him. When you find a man of the 
right spirit, secure him for your own, and be not 
anxious to listen to a great variety of preachers ; 
for every man whom you hear will have his 
own friends, and thus the society will become 
divided in feeling and opinion. It is my earnest 
wish for you, my dear friends, that you may soon 



276 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



find one who will be, to each one of you, a firm, 
faithful, personal friend, and a devoted minister of 
Jesus Christ. 

And now that I am about to leave you, it is 
needless for me to say with what deep regret I 
take .my leave of this sacred place, and of you, 
my kind parishioners and friends. Seldom, in 
these days of uneasiness and contention, does it 
happen that a connection of so many years' 
standing is preserved with so much harmony of 
feeling and so little misunderstanding. I cannot 
feel that this has been the result of any peculiar 
wisdom or care on my part; for I know that I 
have great reason to thank you for overlooking 
many deficiencies and pardoning many negli- 
gences. To most of your families have I been 
called to minister in seasons of sickness and 
bereavement. I tremble, when I think that I 
may frequently have been unfaithful to your 
souls, in those seasons when the heart was most 
peculiarly susceptible to the impressions of re- 
ligion. With most of you have I associated in 
seasons of gladness. But I fear that I have often 
neglected at such times to turn your thoughts to 
the Source of all good. Frequently have I met 
with you around the family fireside ; and how 
many opportunities have I neglected, of giving a 
useful direction to the mind, and, perhaps, of as- 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 277 

sisting those who were seeking a better than 
earthly treasure ! My unfaithfulness cannot be 
remedied now. I pray, that, in the great day, it 
may not be found that your spiritual interests 
have irreparably suffered in my hands. 

To the younger part of my society, and 
especially to the children of the Sabbath School, 
I now bid an affectionate farewell. My heart is 
deeply interested for you, and never shall I for- 
get the many happy hours which I have spent 
with you. I feel grateful to your teachers ; for 
they have been assisting me in my own work. 
Many of them were children in the Sabbath 
School when I came here ; and they could tell 
you, how much of their religious knowledge 
and how much of their love to God they have 
derived from the instructions of this school. My 
earnest wish for you, dear children, is, that you 
would profit by the privileges which you enjoy. 
Resolve that you will spend each day of life 
with a true love of your Heavenly Father, and 
in obedience to your Saviour Jesus Christ. 

My friends, farewell ! I trust that I may be 
permitted to see you again, and that I may often 
hear of your prosperity and happiness, both tem- 
poral and spiritual. I am not, I earnestly hope, 
speaking to you, now, for the last time. I trust 
that I may often have the privilege of addressing 



278 



FAREWELL DISCOURSE. 



you from this place. But, whether present or 
absent, whether in health or in sickness, whether 
living or dying, I cannot but remember you, 
sympathize with you, love you still. And when 
the short term of life has passed, may we all be 
prepared to meet, where no sickness shall ever 
blight our hopes, and no friends ever fear separa- 
tion ! 



SERMON XV.* 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

I HAVE CALLED YOU FRIENDS. — John, XV. 15. 

We have not looked upon Jesus with that 
personal affection and interest which his relation 
to us and his labors for us ought to have inspired. 
Many of his professed disciples have associated 
his name with their own wrangling contentions 
about his metaphysical nature, and have thought 
of him chiefly in order to determine what pre- 
cise rank he holds in the scale of being ; and 
many, who escape that error, yet think of him 
chiefly as the revealer of certain great truths, 
and, in the infinite worth of the message, are in 
danger of forgetting the messenger, or, at least, 
of thinking of him only as a messenger of 
God. They do not feel toward him as if he 
were their personal friend and benefactor ; they 
do not cherish toward him that grateful affec- 



* The author's last discourse ; preached February 5, 1843. 



280 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



tion, and that mingled reverence and love, which 
they feel toward mere earthly benefactors. And 
to this danger those called Unitarian Christians 
are peculiarly exposed. They have felt that 
many Christians have given to Jesus a place in 
their affections which belonged only to the 
Father, and have been led by their peculiar doc- 
trines to regard him as interposing between God 
and his guilty creatures to avert from them his 
wrath ; so that their language and their feelings 
have indicated a higher degree of gratitude to 
Jesus than to the Being who sent him. To 
avoid such an error, and to give to the Father the 
supremacy which belongs to him, they have, per- 
haps, fallen into the other extreme, and been in 
danger of forgetting the claims of Jesus person- 
ally to a place in their hearts. But Jesus, though 
ever earnestly pointing upward to his Father, 
and seeking to lead the hearts of men to repose 
undoubtingly on him, yet himself wished for a 
place in their affections, desired to be remem- 
bered, and to have his memory associated with 
their holiest feelings and aspirations. To this 
end, he instituted the Lord's Supper. He had 
been laboring with intense earnestness for man. 
Coming to him on a mission of mercy, giving 
himself up to the divine work of redeeming him 
from the worst evils which can afflict him, ready 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



281 



to meet every form of indignity and suffering 
in his behalf, and even to close his life upon the 
bloody cross, he could not leave the world and 
forget those in whose behalf he had suffered. 
Their interests, of course, were dear to him. He 
had a human heart tenderly alive to all the sym- 
pathies and feelings which move other hearts ; 
and he could not bear to think that they for 
whom he had toiled and suffered, and to whom 
he was to bequeath such a rich inheritance of 
truth, should forget him when he was gone. 
And before he left the world, he appointed this 
simple service in memorial of himself, as a means 
of keeping alive in the hearts of those who were 
so deeply indebted to him a personal remem- 
brance, and around which their holiest recollec- 
tions of him should cluster; and, in after ages, 
when those who had not seen him, yet believed 
on him, should gather, from time to time, around 
his table, that they should not merely think on 
what he had taught, but should approach him 
in grateful spiritual communion, and deepen 
in their own hearts a sense of his transcendent 
excellence, and of their own personal indebted- 
ness to him for their richest blessings. 

I love to take this view of the Lord's Supper. 
It seems to me not only the most Scriptural, 
but decidedly the most simple, touching, and salu- 



282 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



tary, of any which we can take. I do not like 
to look on the Lord's Supper as a mere ordi- 
nance ; and then go into an inquiry, how far it is 
absolutely binding upon us, and whether it be 
necessary to our acceptance, and how far we are 
safe in disobeying it. I do not like to look at it 
merely as an instituted means of religion, and 
undertake to compare it with other outward 
ordinances, and to decide the question, whether 
we can be as good without its observance as 
with it. I would not look upon the observance 
of it, chiefly or mainly, in the light of a profes- 
sion of religion. But, above all these views of 
it, I love to recur to the simple view which 
we have now taken ; to see in it the love of a 
dying friend, wishing that those he left behind 
should not forget him ; to regard it as a service 
of grateful affection to one whom we have so 
much reason to remember. When I come to the 
table which is spread with the memorials of his 
body and his blood, and, with my fellow- 
disciples, do this in remembrance of him, I love 
to think of him as speaking to us in those tender 
accents with which he addressed his immediate 
followers. "I am now," we may think of him 
as saying, "I am now removed from your sight. 
I have gone to my Father. But I would not have 
you forget me. Come, and in this solemn scene 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



283 



bring to remembrance what ye have heard of 
the tenderness of my love to you. Behold these 
hands and feet which the nails have pierced, and 
this side into which the spear was thrust. Eat 
of this bread; it will remind you of this body 
which was thus broken for you. Drink of this 
cup ; it will remind you of my blood which was 
thus shed for you. And as, from time to time, 
you meet together for this purpose, the memory 
of your friend will be revived in your hearts, 
and the interests and cares of earth will not be 
able to thrust me from your thoughts. Ye, who 
have felt my love, draw nigh. Do this in 
remembrance of me." 

It was this desire to be remembered by those 
he loved, so natural to the human heart, and 
which he shared with us, as he did other hu- 
man affections, that induced him to institute 
this rite. Let us ever bear in mind this purpose. 
It may aid in correcting many of our errors, and 
making this, instead of a gloomy, forbidding ser- 
vice, one of the most delightful, to which the 
heart overflowing with gratitude will resort, in 
token of its remembrance of the best of friends. 

But the benevolent heart of Jesus rested not in 
the gratification of this desire, pure and worthy as 
it was. He ever sought the good of others ; and 
he knew that the remembrance of himself, of 



284 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



his character, his labors, and sufferings, would 
be one of the most powerful means of recom- 
mending his truth to the heart of man. He 
knew what was in man. He felt that pure truth, 
addressed merely to the intellect, could not exert 
the needed influence over the human soul. He 
felt that no abstract delineation of the truth 
could convert and reconcile a soul which had 
been debased, perverted, by the service of sin. 
You may present to the sinner the most sublime 
and affecting truths, and he will turn away from 
them with cold indifference, as though he had no 
concern whatever in them. If you reach him 
at all, it must be through his affections. You 
may restrain him from outward evil actions by 
fear ; but you cannot convert him, make him 
spiritually minded, unless you first change his 
heart; and that heart will resist all influence but 
that of love. Jesus knew all this ; and with a 
divine disinterestedness, which regarded all labors 
and sacrifices light in comparison with others' 
happiness, he consented to suffer, and even to 
die, on behalf of man ; and just before the last 
closing scene of his sufferings appointed a touch- 
ing memorial thereof, that men might remember 
him, and open their hearts to the influence of the 
truth. The cross of Christ has done more for 
the propagation of his truth in human hearts 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



285 



than all other influences whatever. Hearts 
have yielded to it, and by it have been recon- 
ciled, which would have resisted every thing 
else. And the story of that love, so beautifully 
and impressively kept alive in human hearts by 
these memorials, has tended to inspire in men a 
holier ardor, and to aid them in attaining the 
same mind that was in Christ. 

We see now what was the simple, yet impor- 
tant purpose, for which the Lord's Supper was 
instituted. First, as a service of grateful affection 
toward Jesus, and of grateful recollection of his 
labors and sufferings on our behalf; and secondly, 
resulting from these, as a means of producing in 
our hearts absolute self-consecration to the great 
work for which he lived and died. Taking this 
view of it, then, we can correct, as I have already 
remarked, many errors into which the world has 
fallen with regard to it, and can answer some 
very important and practical inquiries which 
weigh upon many minds. 

And in the first place, we see how wrong it is 
for any man, or any body of men calling them- 
selves a church, to stand before the Lord's table 
with mere human creeds, and forbid the approach 
of any true disciple of Christ, unless he can con- 
form to their standards of faith. It is not only 
an infringement of the rights of conscience, and 



286 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



a criminal usurpation of authority over the 
human soul, but it is also an interference with 
the express wishes, and a resistance of the clearly- 
revealed purpose of Jesus. Jesus says to every 
humble soul that seeks to follow him, — " Come 
and remember me ; remember me in this way." 
Grateful for the precious privilege, and knowing 
what strength and comfort it will impart, the 
humble follower draws near to his Master's table, 
and is about to comply with his dying request. 
But he is arrested in his purpose by men sinful, 
fallible, as himself: by numerous inquiries touch- 
ing many obscure and mysterious speculations ; 
and unless he can give an answer to these in- 
quiries, satisfactory to his questioners, he is 
refused access to that table, as though it were 
not the Lord's table, but theirs. He is forbidden 
to come to the Master whom he loves. And the 
whole Christian world has seen and practised 
this usurpation so long, that hardly a solitary 
voice is raised to proclaim its injustice and its 
unauthorized interference with the rights of con- 
science. Men may associate themselves together, 
and hold as many articles of faith as they please, 
and make what tests of membership of their own 
body they may choose to adopt. But they may 
not take within their own keeping a Christian 
privilege which Christ laid open to all who 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



287 



wished to remember him, and drive away from 
it all who cannot conform to their views of 
things. They may not come between the disci- 
ple and his Master, and say to the disciple, "You 
shall not offer," — and to Jesus, "You shall not 
receive, the homage of grateful affection and 
remembrance." Let not man dare to interpose 
between any human soul and Christ, who died 
for its redemption. 

Again, does any one ask, What are the proper 
qualifications for partaking in this ordinance ? 
How may I know whether I am fit to come ? A 
recurrence to the simple purpose for which this 
rite was founded will enable any one to reply to 
these questions. It certainly is not necessary for 
you to have arrived at settled convictions con- 
cerning all the controverted points of Christian 
doctrine, and to be able to agree with this, that, 
or any denomination of the Christian world. 
It is not necessary for you to have arrived at 
high degrees of Christian excellence, and to feel 
so strong in virtuous purposes that no tempta- 
tions can have the power to overcome yon. But 
do you look with a grateful heart toward Jesus 
Christ ? Do you feel how much he has done 
for you ? Do you look to him as one who has 
given to you light, and truth, and strength ? And 
does your heart prompt you to show your grati* 



288 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



tude for his undeserved kindness ? Then come. 
Christ Avelcomes you to this table of his love. 
Come, and pay to him the tribute of a grateful 
heart. Come, and receive those sweet influences 
which will sustain and cheer you in your earthly 
pilgrimage, and give you power over sin. Do 
not think too much of what others may say or 
think of you for coming. Do not be oppressed 
with anxious fears, lest others should deem 
you unworthy to draw nigh. Should some dear 
friend of yours request of you the performance of 
some slight act, just in token of remembrance, 
would you hesitate, delay, or neglect it, for fear 
of what the world might say ? And why should 
you be kept back from complying with the last 
request of one who has such claims upon you as 
Jesus has ? Let others think or say what they 
please. If Jesus welcomes you, it is enough ; 
and be assured, he does welcome you, if with a 
grateful, trusting heart you come. 

But is there, then, no danger of unworthily 
partaking ? There certainly is. And now, as well 
as in the days of Paul, it is to be feared many are 
guilty of dishonoring the Lord's body and blood: 
although not in precisely the same way with 
the ancient Corinthians, who turned this sacred 
ordinance into a mere common feast. Not they, 
however, are thus guilty, who, feeling their un- 



the lord's supper. 289 

worthiness of the gospel privileges, come with 
humble, penitent hearts to the Saviour, and seek 
pardon for their sins, and strength for future 
conflicts ; for on such as these Jesus looks with 
a peculiar tenderness. Doubtless, when he was 
upon earth, the tears of the penitent sinner 
reached his heart, and called forth all his tender 
sympathy far more than the offered hospitality 
of those who felt themselves so righteous that 
they needed no forgiveness. And we cannot 
but believe that he shares fully in that joy 
which he tells us is in heaven, when one sinner 
turns from his soul-destructive ways, repents, 
and lives unto God. They, therefore, who have 
the greatest fear of incurring this guilt of un- 
worthily partaking, are actually least in danger 
of it. They, peculiarly, are the welcome ones at 
the table of the Lord. But they are guilty, who, 
in a self-satisfied, Pharisaical spirit, come and en- 
gage in this rite with a feeling which says, " Stand 
by thyself, I am holier than thou." They are 
guilty, who, because it is a fashionable thing, or a 
popular thing, to join the church, come with no 
gratitude in their hearts, — complying with the 
mere form, but cherishing not its spirit. And 
what a solemn mockery have we here, my friends ! 
To eat this bread and drink this cup, by which 
our dear Saviour would have us bring to mind his 
19 



290 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



dying agony, and which he requested should Be 
observed as a bond of union, a pledge of personal 
friendship between his followers and himself; 
and yet to have no affection toward him, and 
scarcely a thought of what he has done for us ! 
O, my friends, let us beware how we thus dis- 
honor the Saviour ! We may impose upon our 
fellow-men by an outward show of piety and 
interest in religion. Even that, however, we 
cannot do long. But God we can never for a 
moment deceive ; and if he sees that fashion, or 
love of human approbation, and not personal love 
to Jesus, has brought us to this service, he can 
look upon us only with abhorrence. Far better 
would it be for us to keep ourselves away from the 
table of our Master, far better now to forsake it, 
than to come with heartless indifference, pretend- 
ing to be grateful to him, yet in our hearts alien- 
ated from him. God help us to examine our- 
selves, and so let us eat of that bread and drink 
of that cup ! 



THE END. 



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